


And The Mirror Stares Back

by FandomTrash24601



Series: Through the Mirror [1]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Autoerotic Asphyxiation, Blood and Torture, Dubious Consent, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, Jim is precious and also Not The Smartest, M/M, Mirror McCoy is a huge dick, Mirror Universe, Multi, So is Mirror Spock, Torture, feat. Bones' hatred of space travel, normal universe swapping space shenanagins, not that graphic though, poisonous plants, why is there a tag for that wtf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-08-30 03:43:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 38,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16757023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomTrash24601/pseuds/FandomTrash24601
Summary: Spock and Bones find themselves in a twisted universe where everything they know- or think they know- is corrupt and deadly. Meanwhile, their counterparts find themselves on a foreign ship where everyone is far too kind.





	1. Chapter 1

“You sure you know how to fly this thing?” Bones said, his hands clenched tight on the armrests of his seat.

Spock, in the pilot’s seat to his left, let out a quiet breath of air that passed as a sigh. Bones gritted his teeth, trying to bite back a sharp response when Spock hadn't even spoken.

“Indeed, Doctor, I am capable of flying a shuttle.”

The ride from the planet’s surface, where Spock and Bones had been collecting plant specimens with remarkable medical abilities, had been smooth at first. Their shuttle had coasted easily through the atmosphere and out into space, but then had encountered some sort of low-level ionic storm. Bones’ aviophobia had flared back to life with a vengeance, and he found himself nauseous and more irritable than usual.

“Then why the hell are we rattling around in this tiny tin can instead of flyin’ smoothly?” Bones snapped, taking a deep breath to try and soothe himself.

“Doctor, it is impossible to navigate an ion storm without any impact on the quality of the ride.”

“Just get us back to the goddamn ship.”

“That is what I am attempting to do.” Spock sounded as monotone as ever, but Bones felt like he could sense an undercurrent of annoyance in Spock’s voice.

There was a large jolt that had Bones gripping his seat until his fingers creaked in protest, his stomach lurching almost painfully, and then the ride became as smooth as ever once more. Bones tipped his head back so it rested against the headrest and took long, deep breaths to try and calm himself down. It would do no good for him to arrive back on board looking like he'd run a marathon.

“Doctor,” Spock queried, “where are your sleeves?”

“My what?” Bones pulled his head away from the headrest and turned to glare at Spock. “They're on my-”

Spock looked vastly different than he had just moments previous. His uniform was sleeveless, a sparkling golden sash tied around his waist. Multiple pins adorned his breast, almost like a formal uniform, but none of them were familiar. Not only that, but Spock had a _goatee_. Bones looked down at himself to find the same clothes that Spock wore on his body.

His body, but not his body. There were pink scars on his arms that he knew shouldn't have been there, and his arms were more muscular than they should've been. Bones looked over at Spock again, and noticed a plethora of green scars marring his arms, too, as well as a scar running from his nose and across part of the cheek that faced Bones.

“What’s happened to us?” Bones whispered.

“I do not know.” Spock’s spine was rigid, and he was clearly just as uncomfortable as Bones. “I must hail the ship. Please be silent.” Bones swallowed hard and did as Spock asked, too alarmed and confused to give a typical sarcastic rebuke.

“Spock to _Enterprise_ , come in _Enterprise.”_

“ _Enterprise_ here,” purred a silky voice over the comm line. It was probably supposed to sound seductive, but all it accomplished was sending chills down Bones’ spine. “How can I help you, Spock?”

“Permission to land, _Enterprise?”_ Spock asked. If he was unnerved by the cooing woman- probably Uhura, which was a horrid thought- he didn't show it.

“Permission granted,” Uhura replied. “See you back on board, dearest.”

_Dearest._

“Indeed,” Spock said, exchanging a look with Bones.

Bones’ heart rate began to pick up as they got closer and closer to the _Enterprise_. His fingers gasped tightly and sporadically at the seat handles as he tried to calm himself down.

“What are we gonna do, Spock?” Bones whispered, as if someone was listening. “This ain't our ship- hell, I don't think this is our _universe_. We got new bodies, and new clothes, and new scars.”

“We will blend in as best we can,” Spock replied, voice equally as quiet. “This universe seems savage, and while we may be forced to do some rather unpleasant things, I do not believe that we can afford to act as if we are not used to anything in this universe.”

“And while we focus on not dying,” Bones muttered, “we figure out how to get back.”

“Affirmative.”

The shuttle landed with a small bump, and with an idea in the back of his head, Bones stood as soon as the shuttle had landed. In the back was the specimen they'd collected, but instead of small blue flowers with round petals, they were orange with large pointed petals.

“Spock.” Bones gestured without looking. “Look at these. You're the science brainiac, probably memorized all the plants on that planet. What can this do?”

“This is a most peculiar plant,” Spock said. “It has quite interesting neurological symptoms if the oils of the plant are ingested. After ingested, the oils send the victim into a state not unlike unconsciousness, where they suffer their worst memories and delusions of the things they fear most.”

“What the hell could these people want with this?” Bones whispered, horrified.

“I do not know, but the shuttlebay is pressurized. We should not spend too much time here, lest we rouse suspicion.”

“Yeah.” Bones went to set the plant back down, but then decided to keep holding it. “Let’s go.”

The shuttlebay looked the same as it always did, which was probably worse than if it had looked completely different. Bones almost expected Jim to come bounding through the door, lamenting that he'd been abandoned by his CMO and first officer with near Shakespearean eloquence, but he didn't. The room remained silent apart from Bones and Spock.

As they reached the door, a young redshirt entered the room. He was fair of hair and skin, but pink scars littered his body, too. His eyes were too dark, not in color but with the weight of things that he'd seen. Bones knew that look. He'd seen it in plenty of patients with PTSD.

“Captain Kirk requests the presence of both of you in his ready room immediately,” the kid said. Despite his tiny frame, the kid seemed unafraid. Perhaps it was due in part to the wicked looking knife hanging from his belt. He also had a sparkly gold dash around his waist, like Bones and Spock. It seemed to be a part of the uniform.

“What about this?” Bones said, irritated. He held up the plant for the kid to view.

“I don't know.” The kid shrugged. “All I know is the captain wants to see you.”

“Well then you take this,” Bones snapped, shoving the specimen into the kid’s arms. “Take it to sickbay or something.”

The kid’s lips curled in the barest hint of a sneer before he left the room. The door shut behind the kid, and Bones glanced at Spock.

“It seems that you are surly in this universe as well,” Spock deadpanned.

Bones snorted out some laughter, surprising himself.

“We should not keep the captain waiting.”

“No, I suppose we shouldn't.” Bones’ brief high spirits faded fast at the thought of this universe’s Jim. Who knew what he'd be like here? His best friend could be a monster.

The hallways alone were dizzyingly unfamiliar and yet familiar all the same. The halls seemed the same, they were the same shape and the same shade, laid out in the same way, but an odd crest adorned the walls. It was an image of Earth, with a long sword piercing the planet from top to bottom. Bones tried his best not to stare as familiar faces passed him. There went Ensign Werle, but instead of the pants and blue shirt she preferred to wear, she wore a miniskirt and what looked like little more than a bra.

The turbolift was only a moment of respite. Bones and Spock exchanged no words. Only a gaze was enough to communicate the primary concern of both men.

_If the meekest Ensign is scarred and tough-faced, what the hell will Jim be like?_

When the turbolift opened up onto the bridge, Bones put on his sternest mask. Everyone peered up from their work, but the majority glanced right back. Sulu turned fully around in his chair with a bit of a sneer, though, and Uhura reclined in her seat. With her wearing what seemed to be the designated uniform for Human females, little was left to the imagination as she stretched and gazed at Spock with eyes that were both soft and predatory. Bones wondered how she protected herself from the perverts he was sure were on board; no weapon on her was visible. He supposed that she could’ve been hiding something in her boot, though.

Bones refrained from stopping to gawk at these twisted versions of his friends, his family, and headed right for Captain Kirk’s ready room. Spock was right by his side, pressing the button by the door to request entry.

“Yes?” Jim’s voice was unbelievably welcome, even if it wasn't truly Jim.

“This is Commander Spock, and Doctor McCoy,” Spock said. “We were informed that you wanted to see us immediately.”

“Yes, yes, come in.”

The door slid open, and Bones gratefully stepped in. When the door shut behind them, Bones almost immediately went from feeling relieved to be off of the bridge to feeling incredibly trapped and confined. He resisted the urge to squirm where he stood like a schoolboy caught doing something he shouldn't.

Jim- the other Jim, the new Jim, the Jim that Bones didn't know- sat leaned back in his chair with his legs propped up on the desk. His teeth were bright white, malicious in their perfection, and his eyes shone supernaturally blue with something a little like madness. Instead of a rather conservative uniform, Jim wore a sleeveless shirt like a good portion of the other men. Around his waist was another one of the gold sashes, which complimented his hair. As well as the scars covering Jim’s arms and the parts of Jim’s chest that Bones could see, a long, jagged scar ran from Jim’s right temple to the corner of his mouth, just barely missing his eye. A few more, smaller scars dotted Jim’s face, but the large one drew all of Bones’ attention.

Bones knew instantly that this was nobody to be calling ‘Jim.’

“I hope the two of you had a fruitful trip?” Kirk asked.

“We did, Captain,” Spock replied.

“Good, good. Anything unusual?”

“Not at all, sir.”

“I'd like to hear from the doctor, Commander,” Kirk said, and while his tone hadn't obviously changed there was something frigid and icy under it, something brittle and dangerous.

“Our trip went just fine.” Bones felt tongue-tied and dizzy with all of Kirk’s attention turned on him. His Jim had never looked at him this way before, like a potential enemy, like a toy.

“Excellent.” Kirk smiled, and it made Bones breathless with fear and exhilaration.

There was something about this version of the man Bones loved. He was too different to be right, too different to make Bones feel at all comfortable around him, but just similar enough that Bones’ heart still leapt whenever he smiled.

“Commander,” Kirk said, still smiling, eyes not leaving Bones’. “Go down to the interrogation chambers and figure out who manipulated our latest traitor into attempting mutiny. Don't be afraid to use our newest acquisition, if necessary.”

“Yes, sir.” Bones knew Spock well enough to know that he was incredibly uncomfortable with Jim’s orders, but what else could he do?

“Dismissed.”

Bones didn't watch as Spock left, but he heard the door his open and then closed. As soon as it was just him and Kirk, the air changed, became sharper and more tense. Bones already missed Spock desperately, although he’d never admit it to anyone.

Slowly, without breaking eye contact, Kirk swung his legs off of his desk and stood, then came around to stand in front of Bones. Something was fractured deep inside of him, Bones could tell that much just by looking at his eyes, at the too-bright blue of them.

Suddenly, Kirk burst into motion. Bones found himself pressed against the wall separating Kirk’s ready room from the bridge, the wind nearly knocked out of him. Kirk’s arm resting against his windpipe didn't help. He had no time to try and regain his breath before Kirk’s mouth came down hard on his.

Bones was shocked into silence and compliance, confounded by the familiar and unfamiliar feeling of Kirk’s body pressed against his. The kiss was harsh, their teeth clacking. It softened somewhat after a moment, and Bones almost melted into the kiss until he recalled just who was kissing him. He began to struggle a bit then, and Kirk rewarded him with something that was almost a snarl and a hard bite to his bottom lip.

Kirk pulled away at last, and Bones wanted to snap at him, ask what the hell he thought he was doing, but already knew enough about this universe not to. Kirk raised his head so that his lips were brushing Bones’ temple.

“When I get off shift,” he murmured, warm breath gusting over the shell of Bones’ ear, “I expect you to be in my quarters. Today’s password is 34086.”

There was clearly some sort of relationship here, but it wasn't romantic. With what he knew of this universe so far, Bones figured it was probably dangerous to be friends with anybody, and so this was some perverted form of his and Jim’s friendship. In any case, Bones’ head was spinning when he met Kirk’s eyes.

“Yes, James,” Bones replied hoping that he had addressed Kirk in his alter’s usual way.

 _Sweet Jesus,_ Bones thought a little desperately. _I don't know if I'll make it through this._


	2. Chapter 2

McCoy had a death grip on the armrests of his seat, but damn if he was going to show anyone that he was uncomfortable, especially Spock. The half-Vulcan bastard was ruthless, as one had to be to get anywhere in the Empire. If he were to become aware of McCoy’s fear, he'd exploit it to his own advantage.

“Jesus wept, Commander,” McCoy spat. “Didn't you ever learn how to fly a shuttle?”

“Indeed I did,” Spock replied. “Perhaps it has escaped your very limited notice that we are flying through an ion storm.”

McCoy harrumphed and gripped the seat tighter. He didn't distrust Spock’s flying abilities; he distrusted flying in general. The bumpiness of the ride wasn't helping any, either.

The shuttle gave a huge jolt, and McCoy squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them and glanced over at Spock to see if his reaction to the jolt had given away his phobia, he could only stare.

Spock… wasn't Spock.

His goatee was gone, for one thing, and his uniform was long-sleeved. The pins that normally adorned his chest were gone, too, replaced by a single badge shaped rather like an arrowhead. Mind racing, McCoy looked down at himself. His uniform was different, too, with sleeves and that arrowhead badge. With the movement of his head, he could feel that his hair was longer than normal.

“Spock.”

“What, Doctor?” Spock sounded annoyed, but McCoy couldn't have cared less.

“Spock, _look_. What the hell’s happened?”

Spock glanced at McCoy, then seemed to freeze for a moment.

“What has happened to us?”

“Like I know?” McCoy snapped. “You're the science officer.”

“It is likely that we have entered an alternate universe,” Spock mused. “These uniforms and the badges are entirely unfamiliar.”

“Not to mention the physical difference.” McCoy scowled. “You look weird without a goatee.”

“We are approaching the ship,” Spock said, ignoring McCoy’s barb. “Be silent so I can request entry.”

“Yeah, yeah,” McCoy muttered.

“Commander Spock to _Enterprise, Enterprise_ come in.”

_“Enterprise_ here,” a cheery female voice replied. “Welcome back, Spock, Leonard.”

McCoy glanced through the front window and saw, much to his confusion, that the shuttlebay doors were already opening. He shared a confounded look with Spock. These people seemed far too trusting, and it was setting McCoy on edge, making him paranoid.

Spock set the shuttle down gently in the shuttlebay, and the two of them just sat and looked at each other as the bay repressurized. McCoy stood and grabbed the plant sample from the back of the shuttle, but frowned when he found a small blue flower instead of the larger orange one they'd harvested.

“Spock.” McCoy gestured. “What the hell can this flower do? It's not the one we harvested.”

“This flower could potentially be used to cure Friollan fever.”

“Huh.” McCoy frowned down at the flower. “Did they not realize that the orange one would make a great interrogation tool?”

“Perhaps they do not torture prisoners here,” Spock suggested, and it seemed to McCoy that Spock was appalled by the words even as they left his mouth.

“Ridiculous.” McCoy rolled his eyes. “Come on, then, let's go see what kind of universe we've landed ourselves in.”

They had hardly stepped out of the shuttle when the doors slid open and Captain Kirk came bouncing into the room. McCoy was struck by the differences between the lover McCoy knew and this man. There was no scarring, no vest and no sash, and there was something brighter about his eyes. He seemed more centered, McCoy reflected. More stable.

“Oh, woe be not me, for my most faithful officers have returned! I mourned most bitterly over their loss, but zounds, it was temporary, so rejoice!”

Before McCoy could even process the odd Shakespearean greeting and think, _‘Maybe this one isn't sane, either,’_ the captain had reached them. He threw his arm around McCoy’s shoulders and threw a wink at Spock.

“Good to see you again, Bones! You too, Spock.”

“We weren't gone for that long,” McCoy said, doing his best to match the captain’s- and McCoy would have to call him Jim or something, because he couldn't possibly imagine calling this _kid_ anything else- level of familiarity.

“Maybe not, but it felt like forever,” Jim groaned. “I had no one to heckle.”

“Poor thing,” McCoy said, voice dripping with mock sympathy. Spock shot him a cautionary look over Jim’s head, but instead of lashing out Jim just laughed, his head tipping back.

“Go on,” Jim said, slapping McCoy on the back. “Why don't you and Spock go and start work on that Friollan fever cure. I'll heckle you more during dinner, yeah?”

“Sure thing.”

McCoy and Spock watched as Jim headed for the exit, humming quietly to himself. Once the door had shut behind him, McCoy turned to Spock.

“What the hell?”

“I do believe that these people are incredibly soft,” Spock stated.

“For sure. And what's up with that nickname he called me? Bones?”

“It is more than likely an inside joke,” Spock reasoned.

“Like you even know what those are,” McCoy snapped, feeling weirdly on edge. “Come on, then. Let's get started on that cure we're supposed to be working on.”

The trip through the hallways was almost dizzying. The Terran Empire insignias on the wall were gone, and everyone wore conservative clothing. Nobody carried weapons, either, and they all looked like children compared to the crew members that McCoy knew. Ensign Merle wore pants and a shirt here instead of the amazingly skimpy outfit she normally wore, and her face was far softer, too.

“This is wild,” McCoy muttered.

“Indeed.”

“So what do we do, try and blend in? Figure out how to get back without rousing any suspicion?”

“I do believe that just the two of us could commit mutiny. This would ensure that we have all the time we need to discover a way back to our own universe.”

“They could be more dangerous than we think,” McCoy replied, scowling. “No way. Blending in might take a little longer, but it'll be sure to get us home. Mutiny could get us killed.”

The labs on this ship were far more technologically advanced, cleaner, and better supplied than those on McCoy’s _Enterprise_. McCoy had to give the poor, soft people of this universe some credit there. Even Spock appeared somewhat impressed, looking around the room almost appreciatively as they began work on the cure.

As they worked, McCoy let his mind run amuck. He hadn't had to develop a cure for anything in a long time, so he was just a little rusty, but it was just like riding a bike and soon McCoy was letting his body run through the motions as his mind raced.

Who the hell were these people? This ship was full of people that McCoy knew, but none of them were the same. McCoy was most concerned about Jim, however. His lover-

_‘Not your boyfriend,’ James whispers harshly into his ear as he's pushing into McCoy, hand tight around his throat. ‘This doesn't mean anything.’_

-was erratic at the best of times. Who knew if he was the same in this universe? And even if he wasn't, what of the man he'd replaced? The other McCoy, this ‘Bones’ that Jim had mentioned, would he be able to survive McCoy’s universe? What if he couldn't? Would McCoy remain trapped in this universe, unable to return?

Upon further consideration, that final thought didn't actually seem too bad.

The hours passed quickly, and soon enough McCoy’s work was interrupted by a beeping from a panel by the door. McCoy rushed to it, unsure of this Captain Kirk’s patience level.

“Yes?”

“Hey, Bones! How goes it down in science land?”

“Going good. We're almost done for today.”

“Are you? Great! How about dinner in the mess hall in ten minutes?”

“Ten minutes?” McCoy glanced back at Spock, who was still working. “Yeah, that works.”

“See you there, then!”

“See you there,” McCoy echoed, and then Jim closed the transmission.

“I don't trust him,” McCoy said as soon as he turned around. “He's… he's too happy, too nice. I don't trust it.”

“Neither do I,” Spock agreed. “And yet it seems that you have no choice.”

The mess hall was bright, and noisy, and McCoy hated it. He'd done a lot of things that he hated during his lifetime, though. Jim was easily visible, but what else was new? Captain Kirk was the center of everything, always. McCoy grabbed some meatloaf and reluctantly joined Jim at a table.

“Hey, Bones,” Jim greeted happily. McCoy was incredibly wary of him. When James seemed truly happy, it never ended well. Sometimes it would end with intense, angry sex. Sometimes it would end with someone dying.

“Hey, Jim.”

“Are you alright?” Jim asked, taking a bite of his burger. His blue eyes softened when he frowned, sending McCoy’s heart skipping.

“Fine,” McCoy said. “Why?”

“You're… I don't know.” McCoy began to panic internally. Had he been found out already? It was too early for even the mutiny option; he and Spock would be taken prisoner, perhaps killed. “You're not as sarcastic as you normally are. You seem on-guard, like there's something to be scared of.” He raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Other than the usual, there's nothing you should be afraid of.”

_Nothing but you,_ McCoy thought, _if you're even half as dangerous as my Kirk._

“Just having an off day,” McCoy said dismissively, waving a hand. “Nothing to worry about.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely.”

Their dinner passed as normally as McCoy could've hoped, and afterwards, Jim suggested they head back to his quarters. McCoy had never been able to refuse a request like that before, and just because this was Jim and not James didn't mean that McCoy felt Kirk’s pull any less. With a sense that he was going to regret it, McCoy accepted.

Jim’s quarters hovered somewhere between cluttered and clean, with a surprising amount of personal items strewn across his quarters. James’ quarters were rather bare and impeccably neat, full of expensive and luxurious furniture but without a single knickknack, but Jim’s quarters were the exact opposite.

“So,” Jim said, grabbing two glasses and what looked like a bottle of whisky from a hidden shelf. “I hope your day didn't go too badly, what with having to spend most of it with Spock.”

“It could've gone worse,” McCoy said evasively. He accepted the drink that Jim gave him, but didn't drink.

“Oh, I'm sure it could've.” Jim laughed. “Remember that time when we were trapped in a cave on Hirepa? Man, I thought we were going to die.”

Jim sat down on the little couch and took a swig of the whisky, then patted the cushion in a gesture for McCoy to sit down next to him. McCoy sat, taking a sip of his whisky. He had watched Jim drink it, and was therefore certain that there was no poison. It was good, burning down his throat. He settled back against the couch and took another sip of the amber liquid. He wondered what Spock was doing, if he'd murdered anyone yet. Probably not.

“That was a hell of a mission,” McCoy agreed blindly.

It seemed that the relationship between this universe’s Leonard McCoy and James Kirk was purely platonic. There was no sex and no romance. It was actually very interesting, given that friendships were just seen as weaknesses in the Imperial Fleet. Jim seemed to be best friends with this ‘Bones’, though.

“Spock’s been off since he got back, too,” Jim said with no preamble, sitting up straight and looking over at McCoy. He tilted his head, eyes bright with concern and curiosity. “Really, Bones, did something happen?”

“Nothing,” McCoy said, letting his annoyance seep through into his voice. “Honestly, kid, you're readin’ into shit that ain't there.”

“Alright,” Jim said, sighing and leaning back again.

The two of them spent about an hour drinking and talking about random things. Well, it was mostly Jim talking and McCoy agreeing, since he didn't remember anything Jim was talking about. By the time the hour was up, though, both of them were rather drunk, Jim more so than McCoy.

Jim looked over at McCoy after downing the rest of his drink, and in his eyes McCoy read happiness and… love? But that was absurd. He looked away and took another sip of his whisky, mind racing.

“I love you, man,” Jim declared, swinging arm over McCoy’s shoulders.

McCoy tried not to tense up at the abrupt physical contact, but his mind began to race even faster. Perhaps love wasn't so absurd. He glanced over at Jim and tried not to let a grin spread across his face.

Now this was something that he could use to his advantage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I hope you enjoy this chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

Bones moved quickly to sickbay, mind racing. Whatever sickbay held couldn't possibly be worse than him overthinking and imagining every possible scenario that could unfold later that day. Jim’s quarters always held fond memories, but the thought of Kirk’s was enough for Bones’ stomach to churn.

He listened in on everyone he passed, desperate for anything that would give him more insight into this twisted universe. Two young male ensigns hurried past at one point, and Bones caught a snippet of their conversation.

“...ent him to the agony booth, and then to Commander Spock,” one of them whispered in a hushed tone.

“And then to the Commander?” The second one of them sounded disappointed. “Damn, there's no way the Commander will let him live. The guy’s a fucking sadist.”

“Poor Ensign Chekov.” The first one shook his head as he spoke. “Too ambitious for his own good. I knew he'd never make it far.”

Kirk’s dismissal of Spock rang in Bones’ head. He'd gone to take care of a traitor. But he was torturing Chekov. It didn't make any sense, nothing made any sense.

Bones had wrongly assumed that he'd find sickbay in a similar condition to the one he knew. This sickbay was antiquated, with outdated equipment and a plethora of tools that Bones felt belonged in a museum, not a fully-functioning sickbay. He had to fight to keep shock off of his face.

He spotted Chapel as soon as he entered, dressed in the same skimpy outfit as all the other Human women. Her tall black boots stood out against her pale skin, and Bones did his best to focus on her boots instead of the cleavage that was damn near spilling out of what passed for her uniform top. Her fair hair was cut short, which was a shocking sight, and her blue eyes were sharp and cold instead of bright and warm.

“Doctor,” she leered.

“Nurse.” He forced the word out in a growl. This Chapel and his counterpart clearly didn't like each other, so he would play his part. “Don't bother me unless the ship is on fire.”

In his office, Bones locked the door and shuttered all of the windows, then slumped into the chair behind his desk. His hands shook when he lifted them, but Bones didn't allow himself to focus on his emotions for long. He had to discover more about this universe, and thankfully his office had a console of its own.

Less than ten minutes of research left dread sitting like an elephant on Bones’ chest. This universe was brutal and full of horrors, where Humans had formed the Terran Empire and reigned savagely. Everyone was cutthroat, no one was to be trusted, and it seemed that only sadists and madmen joined the Imperial Fleet. If you didn't murder your way to the top, you were likely to end up broken or dead.

Somehow, this universe’s version of Leonard McCoy was cutthroat enough to become the CMO of the Imperial Fleet’s flagship. The thought of what his counterpart had had to do to acquire his job was chilling, and even worse was the thought of what this universe’s Jim Kirk had done to become the captain.

Reluctantly, but macabrely intrigued, Bones looked up the histories of the captain he'd just met. He found bone-chilling records of how James Tiberius Kirk had survived a genocide on Tarsus IV at the age of thirteen by stalking, killing, and eating those who had been ‘saved’ and were therefore well-fed. Kirk had then returned home and slaughtered his stepfather for sending him to Tarsus. When his brother tried to stop him, Jim killed him, too.

At Starfleet, any who became Jim’s rivals would suddenly become disfigured or decide to drop out until Jim nearly reigned over his class. During the incident with Nero, Jim slaughtered Nero and was ‘unable to save’ Captain Pike. Upon return to Earth, captaining the _Narada_ , he was given captaincy of the _Enterprise_ as well as free reign to pick his crew. Bones was unsure if he'd slept around or just scared the crap out of the heads of the Imperial Fleet, as the file didn't say or imply anything. He'd picked his crew, and they'd set out on their journey, which was still ongoing.

Bones had a sick feeling that instead of whispering Captain Kirk reverentially, worshipfully, the people in this universe whispered Kirk’s name like he was the thing that crept in the night.

Bones glanced around as if waiting for someone to jump out from a hiding place with an, “Aha!” and drag him off to some interrogation room. He shook off these paranoid thoughts quite roughly and turned back to the console, searching his own name.

His counterpart, he discovered, was just as monstrous as Kirk.

Their lives were similar up to a point, with him graduating high school top of his class and marrying Jocelyn soon after. That’s where the similarities ended. When his father had been diagnosed with a terminal illness, the other Leonard McCoy had killed him instead of trying to find a cure. When the other him discovered Jocelyn cheating- which Bones hadn't done until after Joanna's birth- he’d skinned her alive and then hung her from a tree behind the house of the man she’d been cheating on him with. The other man in the picture had been found stabbed to death in his bed.

At the Imperial Fleet Academy, his counterpart had been top of his class within the medical department the whole time he attended. After the first people to cross him turned up dead in mysterious ways that couldn't be linked to the other Leonard, his supremacy went unchallenged.

After the _Narada_ destroyed Vulcan, the other Leonard had been the first crew member to be chosen. Ever since, his counterpart had been loyal to Captain Kirk, matching his brutality in a quieter, more subtle way. In no way was the other Leonard McCoy a good person.

“Sweet merciful Jesus,” Bones whispered, scrubbing a hand over his face.

Well, now he had a better idea of how to act. If nothing else, he at least got that out of his research. Curiosity niggling at him, he brought his hands back to the console and searched for ‘agony booths.’ The results were nauseating. A booth were Imperial officers were punished with- true to the name- agonizing pain. There were also such thing as agonizers, small hand-held devices that could also inflict agony upon the victim.

“What the hell am I supposed to do?” Bones asked himself quietly, putting his head in his hands.

He had never been any sort of diplomat because he wasn’t a very good actor. He couldn't hide behind smiles and polite banter like Jim, couldn't navigate tense conversations as easily as breathing. He’d never been good at blending in or at charming people, hiding behind his frown.

Although perhaps his frown was what he needed. This was a cruel universe, full of cruel people. He hadn't seen a single person besides Kirk smile during the time he'd been here. From what he'd observed, smiling wasn't normal. Scowling was.

He sat up, taking a deep breath and straightening his back. As if on cue, like this was one giant play and Bones had forgotten his part, someone requested entry.

“What is it?” he snapped. “Computer, let them enter.”

Chapel stood in the doorway, her hip cocked and a bit of a smirk haunting her face. Immediately, Bones knew something was happening that he was going to hate.

“You've got a patient coming in, McCoy.”

“Do I?”

McCoy stood from the desk and walked towards the door, gesturing for her to leave with his head. She rolled her eyes and left his office in front of him, her hips swaying. Tucked under her sash, he could spy an agonizer. Uncertain if it was allowed or not and unwilling to risk guessing that it wasn't allowed and being wrong, Bones kept quiet.

Just as he exited his office, the doors slid open and two security members hurried in, carrying a stretcher. On the stretcher lay a body- and hat was really all that Bones could call it. He was absolutely horrified by the sight, but scowled instead of expressing any softer emotions and suppressed his fear as he went into what Jim loved to refer to as ‘doctor mode.’

The victim’s face had been almost pulverized. He could discern features through the blood if he squinted, a twisted, crushed nose and two massively swollen eyes. The victim had short, curly hair that Bones couldn't discern the color of through all the blood. He- and Bones could tell that they were a he as he got closer- was stripped down to just his underwear and soaked in blood that oozed from multiple lacerations across his chest and stomach, some deeper than others. The lacerations had been made atop a brutal layer of whip marks. His hands and fingers were mangled, his legs severely broken.

“The kid got whipped pretty bad on his back, too,” one of the security officers offered, sounding _bored_ , of all things. Bones had expected smug or perhaps even nervous, but not bored.

“Did he?” Bones glanced at his nurses, hovering and doing nothing about the dying person on the table. He scowled harder and snapped, “Flip him on to his side, for chrissake. Are you medical professionals or not?”

The nurses began to move at last, and Bones was shocked when the poor soul on the table moaned in pain, apparently conscious. Bones watched, but no move was made to give him morphine.

“How about some morphine?” Bones asked, voice testy.

“Morphine?” Chapel gave him a weird, judgmental look. “What, are you becoming soft or something, doc?”

Bones fought back the appalled fury that rose in him and gave Chapel a cold, steely look. Eyes not moving from hers, Bones asked quietly, “Do I need to put you in the agony booth, nurse?”

Chapel’s lip twitched into a small sneer before she brought her face under control, eyes blazing.

“No, doctor.”

“Good. Get the man some morphine.”

Chapel moved to give the patient some morphine, clearly pissed off. Bones wouldn’t have cared, except he knew that Chapel was dangerous. Everyone was dangerous here.

“Doctor,” began one of the security guards, the dumber one who still lingered. “Commander Spock will be here soon.”

“Why?” Bones snapped, itching to get to his patient. “What's so important?” He pushed down the best he could the relief that flooded through him when at the thought of Spock. It was disturbing in both his universe and this one.

“Well, he's the one who did this,” the security buffoon explained, as if it was obvious.

Bones glanced back at the victim, when a terrible thought occurred to him. He'd heard that this universe’s Chekov had been tortured by Commander Spock? Could the man on the table possibly be Chekov? The thought was beyond nauseating. He was sure that this universe’s Chekov was probably terrible, but he couldn't help imagining cleaning away all the blood and gore to find the Chekov that he knew, the bouncy young man with endless enthusiasm who hero-worshipped Jim and Spock and hesitated to hurt anyone unless they'd attacked him first.

“Why?” Bones glared at the security officer. “His victim’s already more ‘n half dead.”

“I don't know.” The officer shrugged. “I'm not the Commander.”

“You're dismissed,” Bones snapped, and turned back to his patient.

Thankfully, the patient wasn't in danger of dying from anything other than blood loss. There was no spine surgery, no bowel reconstructions, no heart surgery. Bones was quickly working on the hands as Chapel worked on the chest, Ip-Mal on the back, and Smith on the legs. After cleaning the hand so Bones could see what he was working with, he noticed a scar between two knuckles.

The body was covered in scars, but this one… this one Bones knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I've been sick recently, which sucks, but the inspiration has really been flowing and I'm getting a lot of writing done! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!


	4. Chapter 4

McCoy excused himself from Jim’s quarters not much later, mind racing. This whole crew was so soft, Spock’s idea of mutiny actually had some merit. The only person on board he was really worried about was Jim. His own Captain Kirk could switch from jovial to savage in less than a second. This Captain Kirk could be similar.

The other Leonard McCoy had surprisingly bare quarters. McCoy had expected something like Jim’s quarters, bursting with knickknacks. The other McCoy- this ‘Bones’- had neat quarters with almost no personal items. McCoy wandered around, wondering who this Bones was. On his desk sat a framed photo of him and a little girl. It had been taken on Earth, and fairly recently, too. Bones had his arms around the little girl, both of them beaming at the camera while the Golden Gate Bridge stood regal in the background. The girl looked a lot like him. Perhaps Bones had had a daughter?

McCoy sighed and sat down at the desk, logging on to the console to research this universe. Much to his surprise, it wasn't all soft. Like in McCoy’s universe, Vulcan had been destroyed, Khan had tried to destroy San Francisco, and Krall had tried to destroy Yorktown. This crew had also succeeded in stopping Nero, Khan, and Krall, although it had clearly been harder for this crew.

The mutiny suddenly seemed a lot less like an option. If this crew had managed to defeat Nero, Khan, and Krall, they clearly weren't as weak as McCoy and Spock had initially assumed.

The Imperial Fleet didn't exist in this universe, and neither did the Terran Empire, but McCoy wasn't all too surprised by that. There was Starfleet and the Federation, a peacekeeping alliance. McCoy had to stop himself from scoffing. There were no agony booths or agonizers, no knives hidden in sashes- and that was at least one thing McCoy liked about this universe, those god awful sashes didn't exist- and boots, no sadistic doctors who took bets on how long it would take for a patient to pass out from the pain of surgery without morphine or anesthesia.

He then looked up his counterpart. The man had a similar enough past, except he had tried to save his father when old David McCoy had developed a terminal disease. He had also married Jocelyn Darnell, except he'd had a daughter with her before their marriage collapsed. There was no explanation, but McCoy assumed that he'd caught the bitch cheating on him. Afterwards, he'd signed up for Starfleet, and the rest was quite literally history.

McCoy supposed it wouldn't be too hard to imitate the man. He used the console to access Bones’ personal logs and began to listen. It was irritating, hearing his own voice, but he turned up the volume and let the logs play as he began to get ready for bed.

“Jim’s a pain in my ass,” Bones said at one point, “but there's nowhere else I'd rather be but right by his side.”

McCoy paused halfway through brushing his teeth. It seemed that the affection between Jim and Bones was mutual. It didn't seem like either knew it was mutual, which McCoy secretly found hilarious. The two of them had to be smart- they were Kirk and McCoy, even if they were from another universe- and yet they were totally oblivious.

McCoy climbed into bed when he was done, shutting off the logs. He had a pretty good idea of how to act in such a way that there would be no suspicion that he wasn't Bones. While laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling and wondering just how his life had brought him to where he was, in another body in another universe, McCoy had an epiphany.

He sat straight up in bed and smiled, then grabbed for a PADD that lay on the bedside table. Spock’s contact was, funny enough, ‘Hobgoblin.’

 _Spock,_ he wrote, _the ship is ours._

 _What do you mean?_ Spock replied almost immediately.

_This Captain Kirk is in love with his Leonard McCoy. If I can bed him, he’ll be wrapped around my finger._

_Is he? Most interesting. When will you attempt to do so?_

_Tomorrow. It's too late for it tonight._

_I wish you success. Obtaining control of the ship will benefit our cause significantly._

McCoy grinned as he lay back down. For so long, it had been him who was forced into submission. Kirk didn't take no for an answer, didn't trust anyone enough submit in the slightest. He was forceful and rough and finally, _finally_ , McCoy would get to be in charge. He would get to have Kirk- even if it wasn't his Kirk- under him and at his mercy. The thought was nearly enough to send his head spinning, something in his chest kicking and fluttering joyfully. The last time he'd felt such pure joy… he couldn't even remember.

He drifted off to sleep in a foreign room, thoughts of conquering the indomitable James Tiberius Kirk coddling his consciousness like a lullaby.

When he woke, excitement still buzzed through every limb. While he pulled on his uniform, he reflected that he’d have to be more gentle than he wanted. He couldn't make Jim bleed and scream like he had many times while underneath Kirk, or else their cover would be busted quickly. That dampened McCoy’s enthusiasm some, but the anticipation of having Jim underneath him was still high.

“Good morning, Doctor McCoy,” Spock greeted him in the hall, exiting his room as McCoy passed it. McCoy looked at him and smiled, as there was no one around but Spock to see.

“Good morning, Commander Spock,” he said, and meant it. Dropping his voice to a whisper, he added, “This ship is going to be ours.”

“I look forward to it,” Spock replied.

It was still weird as hell to see Spock with no beard and no scars, just like it had been weird to see himself with longer hair and no scars. In the turbolift on the way to the mass hall, McCoy had to fight to keep himself from gawking at the baby-faced Spock.

Immediately upon entry to the mess hall, McCoy and Spock were approached by a dark-skinned woman who McCoy realized with great shock was none other than Nyota Uhura. She looked much kinder here, her hair in a high ponytail instead of a bun of dreads that excellently obscured small knives. Rather than the skimpy skirt and top uniform McCoy was used to her wearing, she wore a dress uniform that, while only falling to mid-thigh, was more conservative than the uniform that McCoy was familiar with.

“Leonard,” she said warmly. “Spock. Good morning. Jim’s in the corner with Chekov and Sulu. I'm heading over there now.”

“We will join you once we have acquired our meals,” Spock said.

“Excellent.” She smiled. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about Driuvek sentence structure. We’ll be revisiting them soon to see how the relations between the two primary factions are holding up.”

McCoy scoured through his memory, trying to recall these Driuveks. The name sounded familiar, but McCoy couldn't place it for the life of him.

In line for the replicator, Spock turned ever so slightly to McCoy and murmured, “Captain Kirk eradicated the Driuveks rather than attempt negotiations between the two factions that had started a planet-wide civil war.”

“I knew that,” McCoy snapped, just to spite Spock. “They spared them in this universe? Really?”

“It appears so.”

After getting some oatmeal and coffee that he was sure was no better here than it was in his own universe, McCoy took a seat at a table full of senior staff that he did and didn't know at the same time.

Jim he had seen the day before, and would certainly see again before the day was out. Uhura he'd just met. Sulu was much softer-looking here, no ugly scars marking his face. His eyes weren't shrewd and calculating, but instead friendly. Chekov was smaller and scrawnier than the one McCoy knew, if that was even possible, and his face was bright and youthful. His eyes glittered joyfully.

McCoy glanced over at Spock to find him looking at Chekov rather oddly, and McCoy was inclined to agree with his sentiment. In their universe, Chekov had tried to commit mutiny just the day before. McCoy was sure that Bones would be quite shocked when the alternate Chekov was eventually dragged into sickbay, either barely alive or dead.

Breakfast passed as well as McCoy could’ve hoped, and Jim didn't say to do anything that would suggest to McCoy that he thought ‘Bones’ was off in any way. It seemed that listening to Bones’ logs had done McCoy plenty of good.

Spock was left in the lab to finish the cure that he and McCoy had been working on the day before, leaving McCoy to just sit in his office in sickbay and do paperwork. It didn't particularly matter to McCoy what he was doing, and in fact he actually preferred doing paperwork. He didn't have to work with Spock, remain constantly wary every time he turned around of quite literally being stabbed in the back.

The door slid open with no warning, but McCoy distinctly remembered locking it. He reached instinctively for a weapon he didn't have tucked into a nonexistent sash, then silently resigned himself to hand-to-hand. He wasn't particularly great at it, but his skills would have to suffice. All this occurred in a moment, before McCoy had even seen who was entering his office.

When he saw it was Jim, he instantly relaxed, although he still remained wary. As soon as the door shut behind Jim, he raised a hand to his head, face twisting into a grimace. It seemed like he had a killer headache.

“Mornin’, kid,” McCoy greeted him casually. “Shouldn't you be on the bridge?”

“I've got a migraine.” Jim sagged into the chair on the other side of McCoy’s desk and then squinted at him. “Shit, it’s worse than normal. Any chance you could give me something for it? Send me on my way?”

“Sure thing,” McCoy said, recalling a drawer he’d seen on his desk labeled, ‘Jim.’

In it was a plethora of hyposprays. Some were labeled ‘headache,’ others ‘migraine,’ and others were labeled ‘sedative.’ McCoy resisted raising his eyes and grabbed a migraine hypo. He stood and came around to Jim, who just tilted his head with his eyes squeezed shut. McCoy was struck by the simple trust in Jim’s gesture, but then reminded himself that people actually trusted doctors in this universe.

“Thanks,” Jim said, rubbing his neck where McCoy had injected him. “I thought my head going to implode, Jesus.”

“Why don't you stay down here for a bit?” McCoy suggested. “Make sure your migraine goes away.”

“I suppose.” Jim settled into the chair, head tipped back and eyes closed. “I'll just… chill here. Please kick me out after fifteen minutes, even if I fall asleep.”

“Sure thing, kid.”

After fifteen minutes, McCoy did as asked and woke Jim from the slumber he'd fallen into. It was incredibly odd to McCoy that any Captain Kirk would feel comfortable enough to fall asleep right in front of him. In McCoy’s universe it would be an open invitation to murder him.

“Oh, shit, I actually fell asleep?” Jim asked as he rubbed his eyes.

“Guess so.”

“Well, thanks Bones.” Jim slapped McCoy on the shoulder when he stood, and McCoy resisted the urge to rip Jim’s hand off of him.

“Hey,” McCoy said as Jim made to leave, following the instinct that told him to begin the process of obtaining control over the ship.

“Hmm?”

“There's somethin’ I gotta tell you, Jim.”

Jim turned to face McCoy fully, a funny smile on his face, and said. “Yeah? What is it?”

“I don't know how to tell you this, kid, but…” He paused, as if hesitant to continue.

“Bones,” Jim said, frowning now. He approached McCoy with a tender look on his face. “You can tell me anything. You know that.”

“I know.” McCoy nodded as if reassuring himself, when in reality he was trying to keep a grin off of his face. “I know.”

“So what is it?”

“...I’m in love with you. And I can't-” He sighed heavily. “I can't keep it to myself anymore. If you don't feel the same way, I understand completely, I do, but I just-”

“Bones,” Jim said breathlessly, cutting him off. His eyes were wide, a smile slowly spreading across his face. He looked like the kid who’d been given everything he could possibly want for Christmas. “Bones, no, there's no need for you to worry at all. I- I love you too, Bones.” He laughed a little. “Have since you threw up on me on that shuttle, really.”

“Really?” McCoy widened his eyes and smiled. “That's- Really?”

“Really,” Jim said, laughing, and approached McCoy. “Can I kiss you?”

“Of course.”

Jim’s hands came up to frame his face and pulled him into a highly enthusiastic kiss. They tasted the same, Kirk and Jim, although Kirk’s kisses had always had a hard edge to them. Jim’s kisses, while enthusiastic, were soft and almost reverent.

McCoy almost felt bad about what he was going to do to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! My writing has been going so quickly that I'll be updating more frequently, so you can all look forward to that!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: this chapter contains a sexual scene with extremely dubious consent.

The scar on the victim’s hand was one that Chekov had explained to him during a physical, spinning a tale of a curious Russian boy and a dog that turned out to be a bear cub. Bones had shaken his head and warned Chekov not to pet any alien creatures, no matter how cute or fluffy they may appear.

Bones had to fight hard to swallow down the bile that had risen suddenly in his throat, and he was very careful to ensure that his hands didn't shake and betray any weakness. Keeping his head down so as not to let his eyes show his inner turmoil, he continued to wipe the blood off of Chekov's bloodied hands so he could see what the hell he was doing.

The door slid open with a quiet hiss, and Bones looked up to see Spock standing in the doorway. His hands were tucked behind his back, uniform and arms adorned with a spattering of red. His face was totally impassive, and for once Bones actually envied Spock for his Vulcan control, because despite how distraught Bones knew Spock had to be, he looked completely disinterested in the bloody and wounded young man on the biobed.

“Doctor,” Spock said, tone just snappish enough to let everyone know that he expected his orders to be carried out immediately, “I will meet you in your office as soon as possible.”

By the time Bones’ office door had slid shut behind Spock, Bones had already snapped at a nearby nurse to continue fixing Chekov’s hands and was peeling off his gloves. He threw the gloves rather aggressively into a trash can and stalked to his office as quickly as he could.

“God, Spock,” he said as soon as the door had shut behind him, “I can't even imagine-”

Spock was sitting in the chair for visitors, his red-painted, shaking hands on his knees. When he turned towards Bones in the process of cutting him off, his eyes were wide and his face pale.

“I am Vulcan,” he murmured, his chest rising faster than it should have been. “We do not _torture.”_

“It looks like these ones do.” Bones’ tone was soft as he eased into the chair behind his desk, eyes locked on Spock’s face. “Are you okay?”

“Mister Chekov looks up to me,” Spock whispered, as if he hadn't heard Bones. “He idolizes me almost as much as he does the captain.”

“This isn't the one we know,” Bones urged, hoping that even if it hadn't helped him, it would make a difference to Spock.

“You are correct,” Spock replied. “That does not- I cannot-”

“Spock, _breathe.”_

“I feel rather ill,” Spock said, voice faint.

“I know.” Bones could truly empathize with Spock for once, could see past his Vulcan exterior and relate to him on a very personal level for only the third time- the first time being the day that Jim died, and the second on Altamid. “God, Spock, I know. I- I’ve gotta go back out there and finish fixing him up. He won't be out of here for a while, but Spock, he's not dead, okay? He's not dead.”

“I am aware of this,” Spock snapped. When he next spoke, his voice was soft again. “I- That is not- It is more bothersome to me that I tortured him, that I purposely inflicted serious harm on one who I hold in high regard. I never intended to let him die.”

“I'm sorry,” Bones said, not even able to summon much ire because Chekov was laying grievously wounded in the main part of sickbay and Spock had been forced to put him there. “But- Spock, we’re both gonna have to pull ourselves together pretty soon. We can't stay in here forever.”

“I am aware. However, I… I need just a few more moments.”

“Alright,” Bones said softly, standing from his seat. “I gotta make sure my nurses ain’t screwin’ up too bad out there.”

Spock didn't reply.

In the main part of sickbay, Chekov was doing well. None of the nurses had screwed up, and Chekov actually seemed incredibly stable, given what he'd been through. Bones pulled the privacy curtain around Chekov's bed, and was going back to his office to boot Spock out for real when he caught sight of the chronometer. His breath caught when he realized it was only three minutes before the end of his shift, before he'd have to report to Kirk's quarters.

He dismissed himself early- he was the boss, after all- and began his journey to Kirk's quarters. His reluctance slowed his pace, and he would've had to leave early to beat Kirk to his quarters anyways, which was what Kirk wanted.

At the door to Kirk's room, Bones hesitated. What would be the worst thing that could happen if he didn't show up, really? He was a damn skilled surgeon, and it would take a lot to replace him. Not death, surely.

Chekov's mangled face flashed through his mind. Chekov, whose mind rivaled Spock's and who was entirely irreplaceable. Chekov, who was half dead when he was brought into Bones' sickbay.

Not death, no, but perhaps something close to it.

Bones punched in the code with an aggressive finger and stepped inside Kirk's room, not allowing himself any time to second-guess. The quarters were dim, but it only took a moment for Bones' eyes to adjust.

Kirk's quarters were rather spartan, empty of the little trinkets that Jim was so fond of. There were no cheesy, below-tourist-grade knickknacks from Risa, no keepsakes from that planet with purple beaches and endless black oceans. While there were no knickknacks, there was an abundance of luxury everywhere it could fit. The chairs weren't standard commission, and looked like they'd come straight from a palace. The bed, which Bones could see some of behind the gold-plated divider, was richly adorned in silk and furs.

If Kirk's quarters had been familiar in any way to Jim's, perhaps Bones wouldn't have felt so on-edge, but they weren't. They were appallingly foreign, every unfamiliar item cloaked in trepidation.

The door slid open behind Bones, and he turned around at what he hoped was a slow enough speed that it wouldn't betray his anxiety. Kirk stood in the doorway, but not for long before he entered and the door shut behind him. A cold fear began to creep through Bones' veins, primal instinct telling him that he was trapped with a beast and screaming for him to run.

"Good afternoon," Bones greeted him, tone neutral.

Kirk smiled at Bones and said, "Computer, lights at sixty percent."

The room brightened considerably, but still maintained most of its cave-like feel. Bones could see Kirk clearly now, could see his eyes well enough that Bones' traitorous, infatuated heart fluttered. Kirk's eyes were predatory, inspecting. Bones felt claustrophobic, despite the size of Kirk's massive captain's quarters. It was like his presence had sucked all the air from the room, made it smaller.

"Tell me, good doctor," Kirk said genially, leaning against the wall by the door. "How was your shift?"

"It was fine." Bones shrugged. "Chekov'll live."

"Will he?" Kirk pursed his lips. "I was rather hoping he'd die."

"He's talented as hell," Bones tried to remind Kirk, his heart beating frantically in his chest. It was not infatuation, now, but a pure fear. "It'd be a waste. He'd be very difficult to replace."

"So would I," Kirk said, pushing off from the wall and approaching Bones. “And the way I see it, it's either I live, or he does." In Bones' personal space, Kirk tipped his head a bit and asked, eyes locked on Bones', "Which would you prefer, McCoy?"

"You, sir," Bones replied automatically, knowing that any other answer might get him killed.

Kirk didn't smile, but commanded, "Strip."

Bones froze. Strip? Was their relationship like that here? He glanced Kirk up and down. The man was attractive, sure, but Bones had no desire to get laid by him. He was too unstable, too volatile and obviously sadistic. Besides, Bones loved his own Jim Kirk. Sleeping with this one would feel like a betrayal.

"Doctor," Kirk said, tone frigid, "are you deaf? I believe I asked you to strip."

In slow, jerky motions, Bones began to peel off his clothing. First came his top, the vest thing that left him feeling oddly exposed even with it on. Then came his shoes and socks, and his pants afterwards. He stood before Kirk in just tight black briefs, then, praying that stripping down to only his underwear was enough to appease Kirk.

"And the underwear," Kirk encouraged, teeth sharp. Bones' hope shattered. "Stripping entails nudity, doctor."

Trying to keep an embarrassed snarl off of his face, Bones slowly stepped out of his underwear. He felt mortified, a blush spreading all across his face and down his chest. Kirk surveyed him with a wicked smirk, clearly pleased with what he could see.

"You satisfied?" Bones snapped, embarrassment prickling and spilling over into anger.

"Not hardly," Kirk replied. "If you would be so kind as to retrieve a couple toys for me, that would be fabulous." His tone was almost innocent, as if he didn't know how much Bones didn't want to do this. "How about... the handcuffs and the cock ring."

"Yes sir," Bones grated out, trying to fight the ugly resistance building in him. It would do him no good.

Under Kirk's bed there lay a box, and in the box was a plethora of various sex toys that had Bones clenching his fists to keep his hands steady. There were plenty of dildos and vibrators, and Bones just prayed that he'd never be forced to use one.

When he came back around the partition, cuffs and cock ring in hand, he found Kirk sitting in one of the regal chairs in the living area. He had stripped, too, while Bones was in the small bedroom, and sat slouched in the chair with his legs spread wide. His hand was fisted lazily around his dick, which was already hard. It was a nice dick, really, long and thick, and despite the dick being attached to a sadistic monster, Bones felt arousal stirring in him.

Although he didn't have much of a choice in the matter, his situation could've been far worse. Kirk would've been his first choice for a sexual encounter with anyone on the ship, and he clearly couldn't abuse his bedwarmers too badly, since Bones had an important job to do. It was up to him how the evening would go; he could make it easy on himself, or very, very difficult.

"Come here," Kirk ordered casually.

Bones approached him, trying to keep his emotions off of his face. Who knew what would show? Bones himself couldn't sort out his emotions. Kirk stood when Bones got close, the vibrant blue of his eyes thoroughly distracting. If they hadn't been so full of malice, Bones might've been able to pretend that he stood facing Jim, even with the scar.

"I missed your mouth today," Kirk mused, bringing a hand up to squeeze Bones' jaw. "I was in the mood for a blow job earlier today, but you were down on that goddamn planet collecting flowers, so I had to settle for calling Rand to my ready room and making her do it." He grinned, and it sent chills down Bones' spine. "She gagged so pretty on me, McCoy, you wouldn't even believe it. Her mouth is nothing compared to yours, though."

"Is that so?"

All signs seemed to be pointing towards a blowjob, and considering all the possibilities, Bones wasn't even all that upset about it. He'd seen whips and gags in the box, and one of the dildos had been about the size of two large human penises combined, covered in little nubs to boot.

"It is."

Kirk tipped his head, gazing at Bones' lips in a way that made his stomach flip. He couldn't quite tell if it was a flip of anticipation or fear, though. Despite the situation, with Kirk being a fucking psychopath and Bones not having much of a choice, Bones was still attracted to James Tiberius Kirk.

"Turn around," Kirk ordered.

There was no mistaking it for anything but an order, and so Bones turned around, his heart rate picking up and his dick deciding to join the party. He willed it to go down, face flushing. If he got hard, it would have to be taken care of in some way, at some point.

Kirk yanked his arms behind his back without any kind of warning whatsoever, and then locked the cuffs on a little too tight. The cold metal of them gave Bones chills, but he refused to shudder. Then Kirk was pressed all up against Bones' back, warm and soft and dry as he peered over Bones' shoulder and reached around to slide on the cock ring. Bones could feel Kirk's grin when he realized Bones was half-hard, and resisted the urge to scowl or pull away.

"Look at you," Kirk cooed, reaching down to fondle Bones' testes with a none too gentle hand. "I'm sure you've been waiting for this all day, huh?"

Dreading? Yes. Waiting for? No.

Bones closed his eyes and tried to relax, tried to pretend it was the Jim Kirk he knew whose hands were wandering over his body. He was relatively successful, but to his mortification, the thought of it being Jim only led to his erection growing. Kirk chuckled and took it in hand, then gave it harsh tugs that only served to increase his arousal.

"Yeah, you have been, haven't you? Probably sat in your office and thought about going down on me, gagging on my dick, probably got yourself hard as hell just thinking about it."

Kirk grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around, then forced him to his knees. Bones was left looking up the length of Kirk's body to his triumphant face, his gleaming eyes. Just about at mouth level stood Kirk's erection, tall and intimidating.

 _Just breathe,_ Bones told himself firmly. _Just breathe, and then suck, and then go back to your quarters._

"Well?" Kirk queried, gesturing to his dick. "Go on, suck." He smiled, razor sharp. "Like a good boy, yeah?"

About an hour later, Bones was walking on weak, coltish legs down the hall to his quarters. He glowered at any who passed him, afraid he'd have to speak. His throat was aching, and he knew that his voice was completely wrecked. Nausea churned in his stomach, and he shoved his shaking hands into the pockets of his pants.

Just as Bones passed Uhura's room, Spock stepped out of it. He looked forbidding and stern, every inch a Vulcan commander, but when he met Bones' eyes they softened and filled with a horror Bones knew resided within his own gaze. Based on Uhura's behavior over the comm and on the bridge, Bones could guess what had just occurred.

"Doctor," Spock murmured, very quietly. If he was speaking to Bones like that, then Spock certainly couldn't hear anyone coming. They were alone- for the time being, at least.

"Spock," Bones replied, his voice carrying just far enough for the Vulcan to hear it.

He almost flinched at how awful it sounded, how obvious it was that his throat had just been fucked within an inch of its life. Spock had the good grace not to acknowledge how hoarse Bones' voice was, and he was a little tempted to hug the man for it.

"How are you?"

"I'll live," Bones muttered, and clenched his hands into fists to try and regain some control over them. "Spock, you've gotta get us home as soon as possible. I can't-" He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath before continuing. "I can't do this for long."

"I am working on it."

"I know." Bones didn't even have the energy to banter with Spock. He was too drained, too empty of anything but bitter semen.

"Good night, Leonard."

"...Good night, Spock."

They went their separate ways: Spock towards the quarters that shared a bathroom with Kirk, and Bones towards his own lonely quarters where he could try and forget the past hour had ever happened.

Bones' feet dragged as he entered his quarters and ordered the lights on at half. He didn't even really take in the room, not that dissimilar from his own. He just moved straight towards the bathroom, reluctant to remove his wrinkled clothes as if they provided any safety.

In the bathroom, Bones made the mistake of looking at himself in the mirror. He had roughly finger combed his hair, but it was still disheveled. Apart from his hair, his lips were bright and puffy, more than enough to let anyone know what had happened.

 _"Christ,”_ spat a memory of Kirk’s voice, _“your mouth is so fucking hot, Jesus. Should pass you around and let others use you, just so they can really appreciate what they can't have."_

First, Bones had sucked Kirk off until the captain had come down his throat, semen bitter and viscous, like poison that sat heavy in Bones' stomach. Then Kirk pushed Bones onto his back and jacked him off torturously, not letting him come but dragging him right to the edge over and over. After Kirk had recovered, he'd made Bones suck him off again. It was only after coming a second time that Kirk had allowed Bones to orgasm, and even then he'd forced Bones to beg for it.

It hadn't been all bad, Bones tried to convince himself. The worst part was that Kirk couldn't keep his fucking mouth shut. If Bones had shut his eyes, he could almost pretend it was Jim. They had the same hands, after all. Almost the same bodies. But Kirk was incapable of shutting up, and every word only reminded Bones of how he wasn't blowing his best friend and the man he'd been pining after for years, but a murderous, twisted doppelgänger.

Bones' nausea suddenly increased rapidly and exponentially, and he made it to the toilet in the nick of time. The vomit, when it was ejected with quite some force from Bones body, seemed to be more semen than anything else.

Bones heaved until he had nothing left in his system that he could possibly expel. He quickly brushed his teeth afterwards, using a pale hand to prop himself up. Bones had originally planned on showering before he slept, but the exhaustion tugging at him was like a riptide. He merely collapsed onto the bed, still in uniform and with his own drying come still splattered across his stomach.

He prayed as he drifted into slumber that he'd wake up the next day in his own cabin, with this all being some twisted, horrifying nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And on that cheerful note, Merry Christmas (Eve) to everyone who celebrates it! I should add one more update before the year is out.


	6. Chapter 6

McCoy went straight to his quarters after his shift, and had only been there for twenty seconds at most before Jim was using his captain’s override to open the door. McCoy let himself smile as Jim entered and came right for him, eyes bright.

“I missed you,” Jim murmured after pulling away from a long, deep kiss. “Couldn't stop thinking about you.” He kissed McCoy again. “About kissing you. I was sitting in my chair all day waiting for my shift to end so I could come back here and kiss you.”

“Kissing me?” McCoy asked, leaning in to kiss Jim. “Like that?”

“Mhmm. And like this.” Jim leaned in and pressed a kiss to a spot just under McCoy’s jaw. His voice dropped when he said, “And this,” and pressed a sucking kiss to the hollow at the base of McCoy’s throat.

“Did you?” McCoy asked, letting his head tip backwards to give Jim better access.

He ran his hands up Jim’s arms, and reveled in the gentle weight of Jim’s hands on his hips. There was no brutality in their grip, just disbelieving enthusiasm. It left something itching under McCoy’s skin, left him wanting Jim’s grip to turn tight and bruising. This softness wasn't what he was used to in the slightest.

After McCoy had kissed Jim soundly for quite a few minutes, moving them slowly until Jim was pressed between him and the bulkhead, he pulled away and began to leave a trail of biting kisses down Jim's neck.

"Fuck me," Jim breathed, and then kissed McCoy again. "Please, Bones."

Jim was warm in McCoy's arms, their bodies pressed together from torso to knees. A tent in Jim's pants met his own, and McCoy had to stifle a triumphant sneer as he rolled his hips against it. Sparks raced up his spine, and Jim must've felt something similar, because he groaned and rolled his own hips, pulling McCoy into a kiss.

"Please," Jim gasped.

"Well, since you asked so nicely," McCoy drawled, biting down on Jim's earlobe. Jim let out a small sound when McCoy did so, his hands squeezing tight for a moment before relaxing again.

A theory began to bloom in McCoy's mind. He hadn't gotten a degree in psychology for nothing, and he was damn well going to put it to good use. Back in his own universe, one of the things Kirk loved to do to him was bite at his earlobes, even though McCoy didn't get much out of it. Jim seemed to love it, though. Perhaps Kirk's actions were something like projection.

McCoy hid a smile in Jim's neck, rolling his hips again and listening to the low noise that Jim couldn't keep back. If Kirk was projecting, he could have some serious fun with Jim. He could take everything Kirk had ever done to him and turn it around on Jim, fuck him 'til he cried and then fuck him some more.

"You ever been fucked before?" McCoy asked, sliding a hand down Jim's torso and around him to grip his ass.

"No." Jim shook his head, eyes closed. "Always been the one doing the fucking."

Jim's breathing was heavy, his head resting back against the bulkheads as if he didn't have the energy to lift it. He already looked so flushed, and McCoy was itching to find out what he'd look like spread open on McCoy. The thought of being the first person inside that ass was electric, overwhelming.

"Well you've gotta prepare first."

McCoy grabbed Jim and pulled him towards the bathroom. Jim came more than willingly, kissing him the whole way. McCoy grinned as he kissed Jim, and although he knew Jim would interpret it as happiness, it was more malicious than that.

Some time later, McCoy was buried deep inside of Jim, who was panting and trembling even though McCoy had hardly done anything. His fingers were clenched tight in McCoy's hair as he kissed him over and over as if searching for something. It was hard for McCoy to believe that any version of Jim could be so submissive, but he wasn't unhappy about it in the slightest.

"C'mon," Jim urged breathlessly, rolling his hips. "C'mon, Bones, fuck me."

"What does it look like I'm doing?" McCoy asked through gritted teeth, snapping his hips and making Jim whine. It was hard for McCoy to maintain restraint when Jim was so tight and hot around him. He wanted to _destroy_ Jim, but he couldn't, not without blowing his cover.

McCoy set a quick pace that had Jim moaning and shaking underneath him, fingers scrabbling at his shoulders and leaving marks. Jim rocked back into McCoy's thrusts, his eyes sliding shut and his mouth falling open.

"Look at you, sweetheart," McCoy crooned, thrusting hard and hitting Jim's prostate, which had him moaning and arching his back. "So pretty for me."

"Bones," Jim murmured, his eyes sliding open to lock on to McCoy's, the blue of them hazy. "Love you, Bones."

"Love you too, sweetheart," McCoy lied.

The blue or Jim's eyes reminded McCoy of another night, in another bed, in another universe, with another Captain Kirk.

_Kirk's hand is tight around his throat, not hard enough to seriously choke McCoy, but hard enough that he has to fight to breathe, that he squirms and spits and struggles. Kirk's eyes above him are too blue, filled with a sadistic, twisted light. His teeth are bared, but McCoy isn't sure if it's in a smile or a snarl as he fucks into McCoy hard enough to physically move McCoy up the bed._

Without even being conscious of it, McCoy's hand had snaked up Jim's chest from where to had been wrapped around his dick. As McCoy's fingers reached the base of Jim's neck, Jim's head tipped back so his neck was bared. McCoy's breath caught at the display of such pure trust.

It was almost enough for him to regret what he was going to do, knowing he was going to sully that trust.

Carefully, McCoy's fingers wrapped around Jim's neck and squeezed. He honestly hadn't expected Jim to let McCoy choke him. Under McCoy, Jim trembled. His skin was flushed a beautiful pink, his eyes half shut and his breath coming quick in rasping pants.

"Please," he whispered, and then sucked in another precious breath.

"Fuck," McCoy muttered, dazed.

He squeezed and began to fuck Jim again, harder, and Jim just let it happen. His arms were looped around McCoy's neck, but they were slack as he gasped and shook. His dick, pressed against McCoy's stomach, began to leak profusely.

"You like that?" McCoy asked, hitting Jim's prostate and forcing a strangled, breathless moan from him.

"Please," he repeated, "Bones, please, please..." He seemed able to say little else, reduced to breathless repetition.

A vision began to swirl around behind McCoy’s eyes, of thrusting hard enough to make Jim scream and beg him to stop, of squeezing Jim’s throat ever tighter. He could picture it almost vividly, picture how Jim’s chest would heave, how his eyes would shoot open when he realized what was happening, technicolor blue. He could picture how Jim would struggle, his thrashing and twisting impeded by McCoy’s relentless pounding, his arms ineffective as the lack of oxygen made them ever weaker. He could picture Jim’s face growing red and then purplish and then blue, finally fading to a gray. He could picture Jim’s limbs falling from his arms, could picture his eyes growing hazy with a sheen of death.

The images were unbearably arousing, dizzying him. His fingers flexed around Jim’s neck, itching to squeeze tighter. McCoy began to lose all rhythm, pleasure building and tingling deep inside of him as he spiraled to an orgasm. Just as he tipped over the edge and began to come, Jim dragged McCoy down and kissed him fiercely with the little air he allowed Jim to have.

McCoy orgasmed with his lips pressed against Jim's, a sheer, electrifying wave sweeping through him and making his toes curl. Jim shook and groaned underneath him as orgasm took him, too.

Afterwards, the two of them lay for several long moments without moving, McCoy slumped on top of Jim. Both of them were breathing heavy, McCoy having relaxed his grip on Jim. His hand still lay loosely curled around Jim's throat, though, and Jim didn't seem to mind that at all.

"Goddamn," Jim breathed, and then began to laugh, turning his head to press his lips to McCoy's damp temple. "That was amazing. How... how did you know?"

"Know what?" McCoy said into Jim's neck. He knew exactly what Jim was talking about, but he wanted to hear him say it.

"My..." Jim seemed a little flustered, which McCoy thought was funny. He'd never seen Kirk flustered. "My whole choking thing."

"Just a fluke, I guess."

"That's a hell of a fluke." Jim squirmed some under McCoy. "Bones, man, I love you, I do, but you're heavy as shit and I need to move before my legs fall off."

McCoy groaned and muttered, "Oh, you're no fun," but pulled out and rolled off of Jim.

The bed creaked and shifted as Jim stood and made his way to the bathroom, stopping for a moment to brush the side of one of McCoy's feet with his fingertips on the way. It was a tender touch, one made for a lover, a true partner. McCoy hadn't previously believed Jim Kirk- any Jim Kirk- could be capable of such a thing.

A temptation bloomed in McCoy. What's if he didn't return? What if he remained here with Jim and left 'Bones' to rot in the other universe. McCoy would have a version of James Tiberius Kirk who would submit to him aboard a ship where his life wasn't constantly in danger of being taken by other crew members. It would almost be a paradise.

It could never really happen, though. This he knew. This universe wasn't right for him- or maybe _he_ wasn't right for _it_. Whatever the case, McCoy knew he didn't belong in the universe he was in. He belonged right where he was born, in a universe where Kirk was always a domineering, murderous bastard.

When Jim returned to bed, he climbed in behind McCoy, who soon found himself enveloped in warm, strong arms. That, at least, was familiar to McCoy. It was how they slept back home, on the nights when Kirk wouldn't let him leave. Kirk would climb in behind McCoy and sleep with his arms wrapped like iron bands around the doctor. There was generally a knife somewhere, too, as Kirk never slept without one, but Jim seemed content to just bury his nose in the space between McCoy's shoulders and neck and just breathe.

"I love you," Jim whispered several minutes later, when McCoy was hovering on the verge of sleep.

"Hmm? Yeah, love you too.”

"Really." Jim pulled back and pressed a gentle kiss to the spot where his nose had just been. "I think this is the best day of my life."

"Better than the day you got the ship?" McCoy asked, genuinely surprised.

"Far better," Jim replied, obviously sleepy. He tucked his face back into McCoy's neck, and within just a few minutes McCoy could hear soft snores coming from behind him.

It was a long time before McCoy slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, Happy New Year! I hope you all enjoy this chapter!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: themes of extremely dubious consent/non-con, but no actual sex.

Bones woke the next morning foggy and disoriented. The ceiling was plain and boring as ever, and Bones groaned, shifting to rub at his eyes. What a nightmare he'd had, with an evil Kirk who'd coerced him into intercourse so he could maintain he cover and not- well, not die. He was sure Jim would find it funny when Bones told him about it over breakfast.

"Am I that unattractive?" Jim would jest, and then drop a flirtatious wink at Bones.

At the first shift of his arms, though, Bones became aware of an uncomfortable tugging sensation on his stomach, the tug of dried, viscous liquid, like glue or semen. The reality of his situation came crashing down on him, and Bones just lay back and looked at the ceiling to try and compose himself.

What were the chances he could get away with just... not going to work? Very low, he knew.

A sudden thought crossed his mind, flooding his body with terror that came with an inability to protect those he loved. He didn't know how he hadn't thought of this earlier, but Jim was at the mercy of Bones' counterpart. Even though Jim hadn't switched universes, his two best friends were no longer his best friends. They had full access to Jim, and Bones realized with great horror that if they resented Kirk, they could take that out on Jim. They could _kill_ Jim.

The alarm next to Bones' bed began to go off, and he slapped at it to shut it off, then groaned and pressed the balls of his hands into his eyes. He would have to do this, have to get up and go back to the sickbay that wasn't his, would probably have to return to Kirk's quarters that night.

Gritting his teeth, as if the action required some Herculean effort, Bones swung his legs out of bed and stood, grimacing at the tug of dried come on his stomach. Uhura’s counterpart wasn't in the bathroom, thankfully, and Bones scrubbed himself down quickly and roughly to destroy the evidence of what had happened the night before.

He almost felt decent as he walked down the hall to the turbolift, but the feeling of phantom hands running all across his body still plagued him. Bones had been hoping to meet Spock in the turbolift, but instead found himself joined by Kirk, who was the last person that Bones wanted to see.

"Good morning," Kirk greeted him, eyes glittering like they held a shared secret.

Bones gritted his teeth and muttered, "Good morning, sir."

"So, how is Ensign Chekov?"

Bones gave him a mistrustful look. "Fine."

"Is he? I'll have to visit him, then."

"I don't know if he'll be up for visitors, sir," Bones tried to evade.

"Oh? Not even from his dearest captain? He did try to kill me just two days ago. I think we need to discuss that."

"You can discuss it after he's out of sickbay."

Bones, with no coffee in his system and a still aching throat, was in no mood to dance around Kirk. Unfortunately, Kirk didn't care what mood he was in. Kirk's eyes sharpened, and Bones felt as if he was trapped under a microscope. He didn't know how Kirk was able to inspire such fear without moving a single facial muscle, but whatever he did, it was effective as hell. Bones had to fight the urge to shift away from Kirk, as if that would help any while they were temporarily trapped in a small space together.

"Excuse me?" Kirk queried softly. "That sounded like an order, McCoy. Were you really trying to order your boss around?"

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

"No, sir."

"That's what I thought." Kirk's hand came to rest on Bones' shoulder, squeezing until Bones had to bite his lip so as not to vocalize his pain. "Don't forget, I _own_ you."

"Yes, sir."

The door slid open on the floor to the mess hall, and both of them stepped out. Bones prayed that a sudden medical emergency would occur so he could leave Kirk's company, but he had no such luck.

Kirk sat next to Bones at breakfast, a hand resting possessively on the inside of his upper right thigh. Kirk either didn't notice Bones' tension or didn't care, with Bones' bet being on the latter. The possessive grip would have been far less of an issue if Kirk’s grip hadn't been so far up Bones’ thigh that his hand was practically on Bones’ groin instead of his thigh, like a claim, like a reminder that Bones’ bodily autonomy was almost nonexistent here.

Bones could only pick at his food, too distracted and jumpy. As soon as he could, he escaped the mess hall and went to sickbay. There he encountered no one but Chapel, who gazed at him with steely eyes. Bones glowered at her.

He spent most of his day tending to the patients who slowly but steadily streamed in to sickbay. They were there for various reasons- cuts from the daggers of others, black eyes and split lips, one officer who had been poisoned by his roommate. It was appalling, but Bones just glared at everyone and hoped it was enough to save him.

About an hour before the end of Bones' shift, Kirk walked into sickbay. Bones immediately tensed, and tensed further when Kirk hovered by his elbow where he stood monitoring Chekov's life signs. The kid had slipped into a coma just before Bones had come on shift, and was currently on life support.

"So, doctor," Kirk murmured into Bones' ear, hands heavy on his waist and grip tight, "how is he doing?"

"Not good." Bones scowled. "He fell into a coma a few hours ago."

"A shame," Kirk tutted. "I wanted him to know who killed him."

"I beg your pardon?"

Kirk reached out for the life support button, and in a panic, Bones reached out and grabbed his wrist to stop him. Before Bones' hand had even finished wrapping around Kirk's hand, Kirk burst into motion. He turned and swung, a fist to Bones' temple dazing him. He then found himself pulled into a tight headlock, choking and sputtering as Kirk's bicep crushed his throat.

"What the-"

"I thought you said it was me you wanted to keep around, McCoy?" Kirk asked, tone cold. "You should be happy about this."

There was a jostle of Kirk's arm, probably as he leaned in to shut off Chekov's life support, and then came the shrieking of vital signs crashing. Bones began to thrash, unable to see anyone but the Chekov that Bones knew in the biobed, happy and young and so full of vitality.

Bones could see Chapel from his position, could see how she stood silent, watching as her captain murdered one of his own officers. A terrible fury rose in Bones, but it was a helpless fury, the kind that chains itself to one's bones and doesn't let go. Chapel blinked and looked back down at her PADD.

Kirk eventually dropped him, leaving Bones to gasp for air and try to regain his breath. When he looked up, he was alone with Kirk. Chapel had vanished, which was probably wise of her but left Bones feeling a little betrayed. Not like he should've expected her to stay, since she hated him here.

The sound of a flatlining monitor was almost overwhelming, paralyzing in its nature as it echoed around his head. Kirk's hands came down entirely unexpectedly, slamming Bones to the ground. He found himself pinned, arms behind his back and Kirk straddling his waist. Bones struggled but then went still, knowing that there was no way in hell he'd be able to beat Kirk.

"Don't you ever," Kirk hissed, his hands so tight around Bones' wrists that he had to bite back a sound of distress, "do anything like that again. Do you understand me?" Bones didn't respond fast enough, so Kirk shook him roughly. _"Answer me."_

"Yes sir," Bones gasped, trying to shift his wrists so they didn't hurt so much. "Sir, I need my hands to do my job."

Kirk flipped Bones over and, still straddling him, pressed a forearm hard against Bones' throat. Bones' insides flooded with fearful cold at the sight of Kirk's face. It was twisted into some semblance of a snarl, blue eyes colder than Delta Vega and filled with a furious fire that burned brighter than a supernova. This was the face of a killer.

"You are on _my_ ship, Doctor McCoy," Kirk warned in a low, harsh whisper. "You are in _my_ sickbay, whatever you may think. You are _mine_ , totally and completely. Don't forget your station."

"No, sir." Bones was infuriated by the way his voice shook, but his anger was far overridden by his fear of Kirk.

"Good."

Suddenly Kirk's face was cheery as he stood and offered Bones a hand. Wary, but unsure if he could refuse even a hand up after what had just occurred, Bones reached out and took it. Kirk hauled Bones to his feet with enough strength that Bones' hand hurt, then tugged him close by the hand and leaned in to whisper to him.

"Doctor," Kirk murmured, "you have worn my patience awfully thin. I'm working a little late today, just an hour, you see, but today has been stressful. I need something to help me... relax. I expect you to be in my quarters when I get back, all clean and ready for me to fuck into with no prep at all. Do you understand me?"

_No, no, no, not that, please no._

Bones' body flooded with cold, and then hot. He locked his knees so he wouldn't sway, stomach roiling. He didn't want to have sex with this murderer wearing Jim's face, but what other choice did he have?

"Yes, sir."

"Excellent." Kirk released him and smiled, bright and joyful and eerie. "Have a nice rest of your shift. Today's password is 90447. I'll see you in two hours."

And with that, he was gone.

The last hour of Bones' shift passed in a daze. He dreaded what was going to happen after his shift. It wasn't so much who it would be with- because, yeah, while Kirk was a murderous bastard he still looked and felt like Jim- but that he had no choice in the matter. Not really.

After his shift, he trudged to Kirk's quarters, his dismay increasing with every step. He wanted to go home so badly. He'd never experienced any sort of homesickness this badly in his entire life. Not when Jocelyn took their home and daughter in the divorce, not ever.

Kirk's quarters seemed even more dark and dangerous than they had before. Bones fled to the bathroom, as if that would help his mind any. He rummaged with shaking hands through the drawers in the bathroom, finally coming up with an enema rod.

Enemas had been liquid and messy back in the twenty-first century. Since then, technology had improved, and now enemas were simply rods that, when stuck up a rectum, 'vanished' the feces through something similar to chemotherapy but much less harmful to the body.

Bones held it in his hand, staring down at it as if it were a poisonous snake. He tried to rationalize the situation, tried to compare as if that would suddenly make him perfectly willing to jump into bed with Kirk.

_Enemas aren't as messy as they used to be._

_I can just keep my eyes shut, pretend it's Jim._

_If I blow my cover and don't make it home, Jim will be stuck with the other version of me._

_It won't hurt that bad. I've got a job to do, and an important one. He can't risk hurting me too bad._

Bones took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then stripped down until he was naked and began to prepare himself. The best thing he could do at the point was to make sure that he was very thoroughly prepped.

When Kirk entered his quarters an hour after Bones' shift ended, Bones didn't notice at first. He was lost in his own head, three lube-drenched fingers inside himself. It was only when Kirk spoke did Bones realize he had returned.

"What a pretty picture you make," Kirk cooed.

Bones' eyes snapped open, a shallow gasp leaving his lips when he saw Kirk leaning against the divider, arms crossed with a smirk on his face. Bones had expected all arousal to flee in the face of Kirk, but that wasn't the case at all. He'd wired himself up, and his body was ready to accept anyone.

Kirk approached the bed, stripping as he went, and then crawled smoothly up the bed until he was on all fours over Bones. When he smiled, Bones felt chills race down his spine but wasn't sure if it was fear or arousal.

"Good boy," Kirk purred. "Let's get started."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! I'm almost don't writing, so updates from now on will definitely be pretty frequent. I'm also thinking of writing two sequels when the story finishes- one for McCoy and one for Bones. Any opinions on that?


	8. Chapter 8

McCoy woke in the morning to find himself on his stomach, a warm body sprawled across the top of him like a blanket. Forgetting where he was, McCoy tensed for a moment. Jim, on top of him, shifted and mumbled something nonsensical into McCoy’s armpit.

“Jim,” McCoy whispered. “Jim, wake up.”

Jim shifted again and rasped, “What?”

“It's time to get up.”

Jim shifted a little more to look at the chronometer, an elbow digging in to McCoy’s ribs. He then flopped back down onto McCoy hard enough to almost knock the breath from him, arms wrapping themselves back around McCoy’s chest.

“We've got five minutes,” Jim muttered into McCoy’s armpit.

“Well then at least let me be a little more comfortable for those five minutes.” McCoy tried to turn over, his process significantly impeded by Jim’s refusal to cooperate. “Jesus, Jim, give a man some room to breathe.”

“You're comfy, though,” Jim pouted, wrapping himself tight around McCoy again.

“Thanks,” McCoy said dryly. His arm was wrapped around Jim’s shoulders, fingers brushing his upper arm. “Hey, Jim.”

“Mmm?”

"So I was thinking," he began, "and I want to go back down to the planet to collect some other flowers."

"Why?" Jim yawned and tried to snuggle even closer. "Thought you said only one thing down there was good for medicine."

"Well, you know how toxic things such as foxglove, yew, and snake venom have traditionally been used to make medicine? I figured we could probably get some of a toxic kind of flower that was recorded down there and do the same."

"'S a good idea. Go for it. I'll send a team down with you."

"Who're you thinking of?"

"Spock," Jim mumbled, thinking as he spoke. "No security- they’ll all be bored, and there's nothing down there. Maybe Sulu to pilot, I know he'll be happy to help with plants."

"Just them?"

McCoy was not pleased in the slightest with the idea of going down with Sulu, who was cutthroat and brutal and was only loyal to Kirk because the man was the most powerful in the Empire. This one was different, sure, but it didn't mean McCoy was suddenly gung-ho about him joining McCoy's mission.

"Probably Chekov," Jim said, fingers stroking gently at the skin of McCoy's chest. He was far more awake than he'd been only seconds ago. "Sulu's been helping him improve his piloting skills, this'll be a good opportunity. And Chapel. She hasn't been off the ship in a while."

McCoy wasn't happy about either of those, but kept his mouth shut. Chekov was a cute, tiny thing here, hardly dangerous at all, and Chapel actually _liked_ him in this universe.

"Sounds good," McCoy said, and pressed a kiss to Jim's forehead. "I'll be back for dinner at the latest."

"You'd better."

The alarm began to blare, quiet enough to not startle McCoy but loud enough that he wanted to shut it off. Jim groaned and tried to bury his head in McCoy's chest.

"C'mon, sweetheart," McCoy prompted. "Let's get up."

"I don't want to." Jim thankfully disentangled himself from McCoy and then threw a dramatic arm over his eyes. "I just want to lay in bed with you all day."

"I know, I know. But I've got medicine to make and you've got a ship to run."

"Mmm, I do have a ship to run, don't I?" Jim asked, smirking and removing his arm from his face. He watched appreciatively as McCoy slid out of bed completely naked. "Good thing we keep spare uniforms in each other's quarters, yeah? I don't have to sneak back to my quarters to get a clean uniform."

"As if it would stay that way for long," McCoy scoffed.

"Not if you insist on waving that truly amazing ass in my face, it wouldn't," Jim said, his eyes glimmering in a rather lustful manner.

"We don't have time for your sex drive," McCoy groused, grabbing Jim’s spare undershirt and tossing it at him. "Get dressed, kid."

Jim caught the shirt and groaned, sitting up and tugging it on over his head. The black, long-sleeved undershirt fit like a glove, and McCoy couldn't help but admire Jim's physique. Kirk was more fit, sure, all muscle and scars, but Jim was no weakling either. His body was muscular without being grotesquely so, the body of one who worked out often but didn't exactly pay much mind to a diet.

Within ten minutes, McCoy had wrangled Jim into his clothing and they'd made it down to the mess hall. Most everyone was already there, seated around the large, almost communal table. McCoy felt his body tense in the way it did when he had to be constantly wary and alert, like when he was in the bridge surrounded by the alternate selves of all of these people.

McCoy really would've preferred to sit next to Spock, despite his hatred of the half-Vulcan. It would've allowed them to quietly discuss their plans to take over the ship. But Jim eliminated that option by sitting next to Spock and leaving McCoy to take the only other open seat, on his other side. With Jim between them, McCoy had no way of talking to Spock about how they were going to take Jim down.

"Just so the two of you don't bicker too much," Jim said cheerily as he settled into his seat.

"You think one seat's gonna keep me from smack talking him?" McCoy asked, sending Jim a skeptical look.

"Well, no. It might help, though."

Jim dug into his omelette, which was at least sort of healthy and appeased McCoy's tiny, shriveled, almost-dead doctorly heart. McCoy himself had oatmeal with fruit, which wasn't nearly as nasty as the black sludge this universe dared to call coffee.

"So, team," Jim announced at one point, mouth still half-full of omelette, "some of you will be joining our lovable Doctor McCoy down on the planet we're orbiting."

"Ooh, which ones, Keptin?" Chekov asked.

"You, Sulu, and Spock. Chapel's going, too."

McCoy glanced behind Jim's head at Spock, whose face was carefully blank. He knew that Spock was less than pleased with their arrangement, too, but both of them would just have to suck it up and deal with it.

"Awesome!" Sulu grinned. "I've been wanting to get down there."

"Today's your lucky day, then." Jim smiled back. "You can even help Chekov out some more with his piloting skills."

"I am wery excited to learn, Keptin." Chekov was nearly bouncing in his seat, childlike. McCoy wanted to scowl at him, but refrained from doing so. Everyone here seemed to adore the bouncy _child_ that carried the name of Pavel Chekov.

McCoy made it through breakfast without strangling anyone, and then returned to sickbay. Chapel was standing in front of a patient, but due to her positioning McCoy had no clue who sat behind her. Whoever he was, he was wearing red. It made sense- the security and engineering buffoons were the ones who got hurt most often.

"Hey, Chapel."

"Yes, Doctor?" Chapel turned away from her patient to look at McCoy, and he finally got to see who she was treating.

It was Scotty.

McCoy could hardly recognize the man. He was used to Scotty being more than half robotic, with the top left part of his face being metal-played due to an engineering accident that took his left eye with it. Both of his arms were entirely flesh, too, which was also unsettling. The Scotty that McCoy knew had a mostly metal arm, also from an engineering accident.

"Aye, g'mornin', Doctor!" Scotty boomed cheerily.

"Good morning," McCoy said. "What have you done this time?"

"Oh, jus' burned mah hand a wee bit." Scotty shrugged, a little sheepish.

"You'd think he'd know better," Chapel said to McCoy, as if Scotty wasn't sitting right there.

"You would, wouldn't you?" McCoy agreed.

"Anyways, what did you want to talk to me about?"

"I'm going back down to the planet with a small team, and the captain has decided that it's your lucky day."

"Has he?" Chapel said dryly. "Joy."

"Aw, don't be so sour. We get to look at flowers."

"Ah, and my mind is suddenly changed."

Chapel's wit was almost enough to actually bring a small smile to McCoy's lips. This Chapel had the sass of the one he knew, but not the malice.

"We'll be heading down soon," McCoy said, "so finish up with our esteemed engineer and get together a first aid kit."

"Yes, sir." She patted Scotty on the arm. "You're good to go. Please wear gloves next time, if that isn't too much trouble."

"Ah," Scotty blushed. "No, it isn't."

He dropped off of the biobed and then walked out, giving a small greeting to McCoy as he passed. McCoy gave a nod in return, not knowing his counterpart's relationship with Scotty and not wanting to be overzealous. When the door hissed shut behind Scotty, Chapel turned and looked at him, arms crossed.

"So why are we going back down?" she asked him. "I thought you already got everything of medicinal value."

"I had a new idea," McCoy said, wondering if Chapel would buy his answer like Jim had. "You know how toxic things such as snake venom and foxglove have been used in medicines in the past, right?"

"Of course," she said.

"I figured we could use one of the plants from the planet in a similar way."

Chapel nodded, considering his answer. "That makes sense. I wouldn't have thought of that. What made you think of it?"

"Just an old article I reread yesterday." McCoy shrugged. "Suggested it to Jim, he thought it was a great idea."

"It is," Chapel agreed. "Did the captain give a time for beaming down?"

"We're taking a shuttle in about twenty minutes."

"Oh. Let me get that first aid kit ready, then."

"Alright. I'll meet you in the shuttlebay then with the rest of the team."

"I'll see you down there."

Twenty minutes later almost on the dot, Chapel entered the shuttlebay. The first aid kit was slung over her shoulder almost like a schoolbag.  
McCoy was impressed by her punctuality. Sulu was late, as was Chekov. Spock had showed up early, but that was no surprise.

"What a surprise," Chapel said dryly. "Sulu and Chekov are late."

It took Sulu and Chekov another five minutes to show up. They looked like they'd ran, and Sulu explained with a breathless, "The captain held us back."

"Of course he did." McCoy rolled his eyes.  
"Alright, let's go."

Some things, he thought wryly, never changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Finals are coming up and I meant to post two days ago, but stuff happened. I'm aiming to update about every four or five days from here on out. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this chapter!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: The beginning of this chapter contains a sexual scenario in which consent is extremely dubious.

Some time later found Bones gasping for breath between moans as Kirk pounded ruthlessly into him over and over again. Kirk's chest was hot against his back, hands roaming idly across his skin. Kirk had teased him until he'd begged without a care for his pride and began to weep. Only then did Kirk take any relieving action.

Bones twisted his hands as if that would do anything to release his hands from the handcuffs that kept his hands stretched above his head. They had been freezing when Kirk had first clipped them onto him, but had warmed considerably now. That didn't mean that they didn't bite into his skin when Bones tugged, though.

"Trying to escape?" Kirk breathed into his ear. A particularly sharp and brutal thrust hit his prostate dead-on and Bones shouted. "You'd think you would have learned by now, you're never getting away from me. I _own_ you, can hold you down on the bridge and fuck you until you scream and bleed and no one will do _anything_ , because they all know you're _mine."_

Kirk's tone itself was dark and deep, sending shivers down Bones' spine. The words, much to Bones' horror, only served to heighten his painful arousal. Kirk smiled into Bones' neck, hand around Bones' leaking dick. Their damp skin slid against each other.

"You're so close, aren't you?" Kirk bit at Bones' ear hard enough to draw blood. Bones watched as a scarlet drop hit the sheets next to his head, too out of it to even grimace at the pain. "You're so fucking needy."

Bones' legs trembled. His back bowed towards the sheets, most of his torso coming into contact with the bed. This motion required his legs to spread, some, and only played right into Kirk's hands. He thrust hard, and Bones muffled a cry in the sheets, his entire body feeling as if it were alight, electricity racing up and down his spine, pooling in his groin.

"What do you want?" Kirk murmured softly, breath hot against Bones’ ear. "Do you want to come?"

Bones nodded, mouth hanging open. His eyes couldn't even open, unfocused and hazy. All he could do was feel, and that was even worse. Kirk snarled and pinched his fingers tightly around the base of Bones' cock. Bones cried out, too desperate to come to even think of who was fucking him, whose hand was around his dick.

"Beg for it," Kirk growled.

Bones didn't even think twice. Couldn't, with his mental capacity at the moment. His mouth opened and blabber spilled forth, desperate and needy.

"Please," he gasped, writhing. "Please, please, I need to come, please, please sir, I'll do anything."

Bones could feel Kirk smile against his neck before the hand around his cock loosened and began to stroke, harsh and fast. Bones was too far gone to care, and when he came only a few strokes later, his orgasm rolled through him like a lightning strike, like an earthquake.

Kirk continued to thrust for a few moments after Bones' orgasm had finished, then groaned and shuddered, clutching Bones tight. In his hazy post-orgasm state, Bones wasn't even sure if he loved or hated the hot flood that filled him.

The two of them lay panting for a moment or two, but that was enough time for the wave of aroused indifference that had been drowning Bones to dissipate. The ugly reality of his situation came crashing down, and Bones began to tremble under Kirk despite the almost intense heat he gave off.

"Come on." Kirk pulled out and unlocked the handcuffs, allowing Bones to retract his arms. Kirk then rolled onto his side, his grip on Bones pulling him, too. They lay spooning, and Kirk's hand by his neck shifted to slide under a pillow. When it emerged, Bones felt a sharp line of cold steel rest against his neck. He tensed, his heart rate leaping. "Stay."

Bones couldn't say much more than a slightly shaky, "Yes, sir."

It would be so easy for Kirk to slit his throat and kill him. Just a shift of the wrist, and Bones would die within seconds. Any traces of a pleasant afterglow were gone, torn to shreds by Kirk's knife.

"Relax." Kirk sounded irritated. "Just go to sleep."

So he wasn't returning to his own quarters. Bones couldn't help the wave of despair that washed over him. His quarters were his only escape from everything, and how he didn't even have that to escape to. There was no getting away from Kirk now.

Someone requested entry. Kirk cussed and left the bed, and the air of his quarters washed over Bones' skin. Goosebumps rose all across his body, which lay on top of one of the furs. The fur was surprisingly soft, although Bones was half-laying in a damp spot of his own come. Perhaps he should've moved, should've done something to try and preserve his dignity, but he was too damn _tired_.

"What is it, Commander?" Kirk snapped.

"Sir, I have received notice that an assassination attempt against you has just been thwarted."

Spock's voice was the most welcome thing that Bones had heard in some time. He was almost happy for a moment, until he realized that Spock could probably see him through the divider, sprawled out completely naked on luxurious fur and silk. Shame grew in his chest, a crushing weight that spread hot throughout all of his limbs.

"Another one?" Kirk didn't sound worried in the slightest, just annoyed. "Who was it this time?"

"Ensign Ives, in an attempt to avoid the agony booth, bartered information concerning an assassination plot headed by Lieutenant Marlena Moreau."

Lieutenant Moreau? Bones knew her. She was a quiet, kind science officer who was competent enough with a weapon that she was sent on a good amount of away missions. She adored Jim, probably had a crush on him if Bones' observations held any accuracy. The thought of her trying to kill any James Kirk was almost absurd.

"And was Ensign Ives’ attempt at bargaining successful?"

"No. She served her time in the agony booth and was then sent to the torture chambers for aiding and abetting one who would assassinate you."

"Good."

"What is to be done with Lieutenant Moreau? Should security be sent presently to detain her?"

"No. Leave her to me."

"Yes, sir."

"Have a good night, now, Commander."

"You as well, Captain."

The door slid shut, and moments later there was a fingernail being dragged down the sole of Bones' foot. His legs jerked, and he opened his eyes to scowl at Kirk. Kirk was standing at the end of the bed, his eyes glimmering in the near-darkness.

"Clean yourself up and come out into the living area," Kirk ordered. "I have something to show you."

Bones emerged from the bathroom about five minutes later, farther from a panic attack and without Kirk's semen trickling from his ass. He felt marginally cleaner, although no washing could remove the horrible itching that lived under his skin. Kirk was waiting for him in the living area, knife in hand and still entirely nude. He smiled at Bones, but the gesture did nothing more than chill Bones' blood.

"Computer," Kirk commanded, "open the Tantalus Field."

_The what?_

"I am unable to do so without the proper code."

"The code is Kirk Alpha Alpha 27 14 bonfire 5."

"Opening the Tantalus Field."

Bones watched with morbid fascination as a portion of the wall slid open, revealing a sleek, illuminated panel below a multitude of screens that showed different parts of the ship. Bones looked from the Tantalus Field to Kirk.

"I use this," Kirk said, "to monitor my whole ship. Nobody else knows of its existence- I built it myself. I can also-" Kirk turned and pressed a few buttons. All screens switched to Marlena, sleeping in her room. "-kill people with this." He turned and gazed at Bones, who felt like he was under incredible scrutiny. "I'm leaving the decision up to you, though. Should I kill her now?"

So this was a test. Bones' heart leapt to his throat. He glanced at the screen, at the sleeping Lieutenant. His instincts screamed that he should beg Kirk to spare her, but he knew that doing that would only serve to most likely get him killed.

"Don't kill her now," Bones said. Nausea churned in his stomach as he spoke. "Killing her in her sleep would be a mercy."

Kirk's eyes shone with pleasure when he responded, "An excellent idea, McCoy."

"I thought so." Bones' heart was still racing, but it seemed he'd passed the test.

"Now come to bed," Kirk said, leading Bones with a hand on the back of his neck. Bones followed, albeit begrudgingly.

Back in the sleeping area, Kirk cast off the soiled fur and drew back the silk and other furs. He climbed under the sheets and pulled Bones with him, then flung the sheets back over them. Bones was able to relax just a bit, but then Kirk's hand climbed back up to where it had been before, with the blade resting against Bones' neck.

Eventually, Bones was almost able to forget that the knife was there at all, and he drifted into an uneasy sleep. He dreamt of Jim, of

_Weak morning sunlight has fought its way through the San Francisco fog and is streaming through the windows of their small dorm room when Bones gets back from his overnight hospital shift. He's exhausted, wants nothing more than to drop into bed for a few hours before he has to get up and finish all of his homework. Sure, he might not have classes today, but he's got homework from all the ones yesterday that he never got a chance to do._

_Jim might be up by now, or he might not, so Bones makes sure to be quiet as he enters. As he toes off his shoes and hangs his bag on a hook on the wall that's really for coats, he catches the sound of soft breathing. It's the kind of breathing that huffs through barely parted lips that are smushed against a pillow or some other similar surface, and so Bones can tell at once that Jim is asleep._

_Damn. He was hoping that Jim would be awake, so he wouldn't have to creep. On the other hand, if he can fall asleep before Jim wakes up, he doesn't have to worry about trying to fall asleep through the racket that Jim is always making when he's awake._

_Bones steps into the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth, and when he emerges, the room is still almost silent. It's only when he actually makes it to the end of the small entry hall that their bathroom forms that he sees Jim's bed. It had been hidden from him before, because Bones' bed is the one farthest from the door and immediately visible to all who enter._

_There are two people in Jim's bed, thankfully covered enough by the sheets that Bones doesn't see more than he needs to. One of them is Jim, obviously. The other is a very pretty human woman with long blonde tresses that obscure both her face and Jim's. In fact, Bones is a little worried that Jim will suffocate on her hair before he wakes up. She has quite a lot of it._

_Bones is frozen in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do. Does he climb into his bed and pretend he never saw her? Does he climb into his bed and ask Jim about her once they're both awake and Jim is back from class? Does he shout and wake them up and kick her out?_

_No, the last one would be too mean._

_Bones, it turns out, doesn't get to make the decision of what to do. The woman in Jim's arms stirs and then wakes, her green eyes moving directly to him. He's sure he looks like he's been caught breaking and entering or something, when in reality he's just quite shocked._

_She yelps and scoots backwards into Jim, who wakes with a confused snort that subsequently turns into coughing when he inhales her hair._

_"Who are you?" the woman asks him, sounding defensive. She has a trace of a Eastern European or Russian accent._

_Bones can't say he blames her, but he still scowls and snaps when he replies, "His roommate. Who are you?"_

_"Uh, Cadet Romanov."_

_"Julie, meet Bones," Jim wheezes, propped up on one elbow and pulling the last of Julie's hair from his mouth. "Bones, meet Julie from Klingon 101."_

_"Oh, this is Julie?"_

_Jim has talked about her, the leggy second-year with amazing breasts and a musical laugh. He's been after her for weeks, now, determined to not just sleep with her, but maybe date her._

_"She's not psycho, Bones," Jim had said. "I think you'll actually really like her."_

_Bones hadn't been so sure. Jim may have painted a pretty picture of her, but there was always something nagging at Bones. With her right in front of him, the nagging is even stronger. He does not like this woman, God knows why._

_"Yes, I'm Julie." She shifts a little and tugs the sheets up to cover herself just a bit more. Her breasts are covered by the sheet quite adequately, but Bones doesn't say anything._

_"What time is it?" Jim asks. "I thought you'd be back later."_

_"I'm back the same time I always am," Bones replies. "The two of you must've slept in."_

_"Slept in?" Julie sounds a little panicked. "What time is it?"_

_"About 0745," Jim answers, not giving Bones a chance to speak for himself. He doesn't know why that annoys him so much, but it does. Everything even remotely related to Julie annoys him._

_"Oh, no," she moans. "I have a class at 0800!"_

_"Well shit," Bones drawls, strangely lacking in sympathy. "Better get hurrying, then."_

_"I-" She looks at him, cheeks flushing a splotchy scarlet, and then down at the sheets. "I, um..."_

_"Of course," Bones sighs, noticing now the bra discarded most of the way under Jim's bed, a pair of black panties hanging off the corner. "I'll climb into bed and pull the covers over my head, and I'll probably be asleep before you're even done getting dressed. How does that sound?"_

_"Better," Julie responds, her voice a little meek._

_"Don't worry," Jim assures her. Bones pulls off his reds until he's just in standard issue briefs and an undershirt. "Bones is a perfect gentleman."_

_"For Christ's sake, kid, stop introducing me as 'Bones.' Use my actual name."_

_Bones climbs under the covers, pulling the comforter up until it completely covers his head. He can hear Jim and Julie through the sheets, and tries to block out the sound as his eyelids begin to slide shut of their own accord._

_"His name is Leonard McCoy," Jim says, "but that's way too much of an old man name, so I call him Bones."_

_"I see."_

_There's rustling, and just that soft sound is enough to ignite a spark of anger in Bones. What the hell was Jim doing, bringing Julie back to their room? He didn't even warn Bones about it, probably tried to hide it. How many other girls has he brought back here, unbeknownst to Bones?_

_The anger is familiar, Bones realizes. It's a very watered down version of what he felt when he caught Jocelyn in bed with Clay. The realization shocks him. That can't possibly be right; he doesn't love Jim, not like that. Sure, they've been roommates and best friends for about two and a half years, but..._

_But it's true, Bones realizes with a sinking, fluttering feeling in his chest. Sometime during the past few years, he's managed to fall in love with Jim._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!


	10. Chapter 10

The planet was just as idyllic as it had been when McCoy visited it in his own universe. There were rolling fields of emerald and flowers that were so bright and colorful that they seemed nearly fluorescent. The away team had wandered off in different directions, looking for data that would benefit the other teams that had visited the planet the day of the universe switch. Finding the flowers was a task that McCoy had delegated to himself and Spock.

Spock and McCoy had wandered off together, both of them wanting to just get away from the cloying kindness of this crew. It was making McCoy jumpy, having to act so unlike himself all the time.

"I'm feel like I'm being smothered on that ship," McCoy muttered sourly. He kicked a small rock with excessive force and sent it spiraling into tall grass.

"I must concur." Spock sounded as bland as ever, but if McCoy was going to assign an emotion to Spock, it would have to be something like bitterness.

"You don't have to deal with this version of our beloved and benevolent Captain Kirk," McCoy spat. "He's- He's trusting, and enthusiastic, and way too nice for a captain. He's appallingly in love with me- or with the 'Bones' that he thinks I am, anyways."

"This suits us well," Spock reminded him, peering at the treeline that they were approaching. "Do you have a concrete plan as to how you will render the captain unable to prevent our mutiny?"

"I'm going to create a toxin from the plants we're collecting now," McCoy explained, ducking under a tree branch to head into the forest, where the orange flowers grew in abundance. "It won't kill him- his death would cause a hell of a lot of suspicion. Even his incapacitation will cause suspicion, but I can come up with an explanation for it. He came down with one of the three other teams the day we got switched up, right?"

"Affirmative."

"I'll probably just say it was something he caught here, then, and I'll scan everyone who came down for good measure, and I'll find that the poor captain was the only one to acquire this nasty bug."

Spock seemed to not disapprove of McCoy's plan, which was as close as the bastard ever got to expressing a like for something. McCoy was going to count that as a win.

"Have you determined a method of delivering the toxin to the captain?"

"I have."

"You would do well to remember that this plan is of the utmost importance. Our ability to return to our own universe rests on our ability to incapacitate the captain in a way that does not seem artificial in the slightest."

"Thank you, Commander," McCoy sneered. "Do you want to do my job of acting as a goddamn boyfriend and bed heater for this Captain, too? He clings and drapes like a fucking octopus."

"No, thank you." Spock's tone was stiff, and McCoy had to hide a hint of a smirk.

"Then let me do my goddamn job, and focus on yours."

A flash of orange amongst the foliage caught McCoy's attention, and he swerved to approach a cluster of flowers. They were orange and pointed, exactly the kind that McCoy needed.

"Get me a specimen collector."

Spock took off the bulky cross-body bag that he had been wearing and handed a specimen collector to McCoy. There were six total that had been brought down, and McCoy would have more than enough flowers to extract toxin from.

Within an hour, McCoy was peeling off dirt-covered gloves that had not only kept his hands clean but safe from the flower's toxins. All six containers held a flower, the six best of the group. McCoy had to keep himself from smiling at the thought of their imminent victory.

"We can do this, Spock."

"Indeed we can."

McCoy and Spock carefully loaded the specimen back into Spock's bag. They walked in silence, and it wasn't even ten minutes before the two of them had reunited with the rest of the away team. They were the last ones to arrive, everyone else already having rendezvoused.

"We thought we were going to have to send someone after the two of you." Sulu laughed.

"Well, crisis averted." McCoy patted Spock's bag. "We've got our toxic flowers."

"Toxic flowers?" Sulu asked, looking intrigued.

_"Nyet,_ Hikaru. Do not mess with zee flowers." Chekov warned, curls bobbing and bouncing as he shook his head.

McCoy found himself comparing Chekov to a bird, of all things. Bounding around like a pigeon on city pavement, with unblinking eyes that surveyed absolutely everything. It was an odd comparison, but it made sense to McCoy.

"Oh come on," Sulu protested. "It's not like they're lethal, right?"

"No," McCoy affirmed. "Not unless a lot of concentrated toxin from the flower was administered to someone."

"See?" Sulu turned to Chekov, smiling. "Perfectly safe."

"I wouldn't go as far as to say that," McCoy interjected. "The toxin from this plant can cause hallucinations full of things right outta your worst nightmares."

"It does?" Sulu peered closely at the bag. "And we're bringing some back on board?"

"Even toxic plants can have medicinal properties," Spock said. "This is no different."

"We should probably head back to the shuttle," Chapel interrupted, her gaze fixed on her tricorder. "This reads that a storm is coming. We don't want to get stuck down here."

"A wise suggestion, Nurse Chapel." Spock adjusted the bag on his shoulder. "I am certain that the captain would not wish for us to become trapped down here."

Back on the shuttle, McCoy strapped himself into a seat in the back, the bag of specimens set between him and Spock. He grit his teeth and gripped his knees tightly. Sulu had allowed Chekov to pilot the ship back to the _Enterprise_ despite the storm, and McCoy had no confidence in the kid's abilities.

"Doctor," Spock said at one point, voice quiet. His eyes were fixed in McCoy's hands. "You appear anxious."

"Anxious?" McCoy snarled in an equally as quiet voice to ensure that Chapel, on the other side of the shuttle, couldn't hear. "I'm just trying not to fucking strangle Sulu for letting that _infant_ fly us back to the ship in anything other than perfect conditions."

"I must concur." Spock looked a little constipated just saying those three words. "I have very little faith in Ensign Chekov's ability to pilot."

"At least if we crash, we won't have to worry about ensuring our mutiny is successful," McCoy muttered.

And yet, much to McCoy's surprise and relief, there was no crash. Sulu took the controls as the approached the ship, and brought the shuttle in to a smooth landing that helped to settle McCoy's nerves, just a little bit.

Jim greeted them once again, waiting until everyone but them was out of the shuttle bay to pull McCoy into a long kiss. McCoy really didn't mind Jim's affection for him- for Bones- all that much, especially since it allowed him to have control, something he lacked desperately back in his own universe. McCoy kissed back, pleasure expanding in him as Jim let himself go pliant under McCoy's hands and mouth.

"Welcome back," Jim said after eventually pulling away. He placed a gentle peck on McCoy's lips.

"I wasn't gone for more than three hours," McCoy said, a little puzzled.

"I know." Jim smiled. "I missed you anyways."

His eyes shone when he smiled in a way that Kirk's never had, probably never would. McCoy wondered if Kirk had ever smiled like that in his life, even if it was just as a little kid. He couldn't picture it.

"Missed you too, sweetheart." McCoy glanced around at the shuttlebay. "So we never talked about this, but I'm assuming that you'd like to keep what we have a secret for now?"

Jim shrugged, his hand creeping up behind his neck and his face flushing, signs of embarrassment. When he spoke, the words seemed to shift between being faltering and forced out of his throat to spilling from him in a torrent. "It's not you, really it isn't. I just... I'm not the best at- at relationships. And I love you so much I don't even have the words, and I'm so fucking scared that if people find out, it'll change things, change us and how we act, and it'll screw everything up. I guess... I guess I just want to make sure that this works- that we work- before I go around telling people."

"I understand." McCoy kissed Jim softly, like a reassurance. Jim sighed and let his forehead rest against McCoy's for a few moments before he pulled away, looking pouty and reluctant.

"Duty calls," he said, and pressed another kiss to McCoy's lips before he left silently.

McCoy ambled to a science lab, where Spock was waiting with the flowers. His face as impassive, but McCoy's tardiness had probably caused irritation in the Vulcan, if the heartless bastard was even capable of feeling anything.

"How long do you estimate that extracting a workable toxin from the flowers will take?" Spock asked, removing one of the flowers from its container with careful, gloved hands.

"Oh, not that long." McCoy slid on some gloves of his own, not eager to find out what the effects of the toxin were firsthand. "The real work will be making the toxin into a solution that won't accidentally kill our target or begin to act too quickly."

"And you believe that you can do that?"

McCoy gave Spock one of his most withering glares, normally reserved for especially stupid patients. "I didn't reach the the top of my medical class or my position of CMO by sleeping around, like some do," he spat. "I got there through willpower and intelligence. I can make a simple goddamn solution."

"I never claimed that you acquired your position by trading sexual favors," Spock replied, cool as ever. McCoy wanted to punch him in his smug face.

"Just get to work."

It took almost the remainder of their shifts, but McCoy and Spock eventually wound up with a perfect concoction. The effects wouldn't set in until about ten minutes after injection, and then they'd set in fast. While the effects would be enough to land Jim solidly in sickbay, they wouldn't be nearly bad enough to kill him.

"When do you plan on administering this?" Spock asked.

"Probably tonight," McCoy mused, thinking of the little lines of tension he'd seen around Jim's eyes. They almost likely denoted a headache or migraine coming on.

"I will ensure that we have passage home by tomorrow evening at the latest, then."

"Sounds good to me." McCoy snatched up the hypospray cartridge that they had filled with the toxic solution and pocketed it. "I'll be in sickbay for another-" He glanced at the chronometer. "-fifteen minutes. Then I'll be in Jim's quarters, waiting for a time to give him the toxin."

Fifteen minutes later, McCoy left sickbay and went directly to Jim's quarters. He was nearly bubbling with excitement, victory so close he could almost taste it. He caught himself about to whistle merrily, but stopped himself.

"Bones," Jim greeted him, beaming.

He took McCoy into his arms and kissed him soundly, and his joy at seeing McCoy was utterly bewildering. When he pulled away, though, McCoy observed little lined around his eyes, a sure indicator of a headache. They were worse than they'd been when McCoy had returned and Jim had greeted him in the shuttlebay.

"You got a headache?" McCoy asked softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of Jim's eyes, where the lines were.

Jim smiled, his eyes falling closed and his lashes brushing McCoy's lips. "Yeah. It's not that bad though, really."

"Uh huh. C'mon, Jim, don't bullshit me."

Jim sighed and opened his eyes, weary but bright. "Okay, fine, you've got me. My head is killing me." He rubbed at his temple, looking pained. "I don't want to make you run all the way down to sickbay, though."

"No need. I noticed your headache earlier." McCoy kissed Jim, then reached into his pocket and grabbed the hypospray out of his pocket. He'd loaded it with the toxin while in sickbay in anticipation of this moment.

"What do you mean?" Jim asked, smiling but confused.

McCoy smiled back and pulled the hypospray from his pocket. He watched as Jim's eyes lit up and strangled the malicious triumph that was building in his chest. He was _so close_ to victory.

"I've got something for you right here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I hope you liked this chapter! It's a little short, but the next chapter should be plenty exciting, so you guys can look forward to that!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: the use of the word rape

"Tell me, McCoy," Kirk asked the next morning as they prepared for their shifts. "What do you think I should do with the lovely Lieutenant Moreau?"

He was reclined in the same chair he'd made Bones blow him in, sprawled in an inelegant manner. Bones had no doubts though that, despite how lazy the sprawl seemed, Kirk would be able to leap from the chair in a flash. His eyes gleamed in the light of his cabin, only highlighted by a trace of blue on the handle of the dagger he was fiddling with. He was the epitome of power, a god brought down from the heavens to roam the stars. Bones couldn't look at him without wanting to throw up.

"Why bother asking me?" Bones asked, tying the sash around his waist. His fingers fumbled a little on the knot. "You're the captain."

"That I am." A kind of anger heated Kirk's voice. "And as the captain, I'm asking you."

Bones didn't let himself think, just spoke in an effort to appease Kirk. "I think you've made enough of a spectacle of Chekov-" And didn't that make his chest ache like something was trying to dig its way out with a spoon, the memory of hearing Chekov flatline, having to later call time of death and perform an autopsy on the young man he couldn't help but love like a little cousin. "-that making a spectacle of Moreau wouldn't be particularly effective. Just lock her up in the interrogation room, I'd say. Drag the names of everyone else involved from her. She'd know better than Ensign Ives did, being the organizer and all."

Kirk hummed, and Bones glanced over to find him spinning the knife between his fingers like a baton-twirler at an old-fashioned parade. He glanced away again quickly, not wanting to even accidentally suggest an interest in Kirk. There was more than enough time for a quick blowjob before they had to be on shift.

"A good idea," Kirk acknowledged, tone mild before it dropped to something freezing and hard-edged. "But not something that McCoy would ever suggest."

Bones had just enough time for cold shock and fear to flood his body, for a thought of, _'Fuck, he knows,'_ before Kirk was slamming into him, knocking him to the floor.

"Who the fuck are you?" Kirk snarled from atop him, a firm hand on the back of his neck preventing him from moving his head. He thrashed and twisted, but there was no getting Kirk off of him. Eventually Bones stopped trying to escape, going limp beneath Kirk and panting with the effort of trying to get free.

"I'm Leonard McCoy," Bones grunted. His cheekbones were protesting the force with which his face was being held down, but there wasn't much that he could do.

"Bullshit."

Something cold and thin came to rest against the side of Bones' neck, right against his carotid artery. Kirk's dagger. He fell as still as he could, not eager to learn what bleeding out would feel like.

"Not bullshit," Bones said, and was furious to find that his voice shook, just a little. "I'm from another universe. Got stuck in this hellhole."

"And just how long did you think you could fool me?" Kirk's tone was condescending, and Bones didn't like it one bit. He'd tried his best, dammit.

"Until I could find a way home, hopefully."

"Home," Kirk mused. "I'm assuming you have one of me back home? You two probably aren't together in any sense of the word, just based on your... reluctance to have some fun with me."

"Fun?" Bones snapped. "You call that _fun?_ It felt more like rape, from my end."

“I didn't hear a ‘no.’”

“I couldn't exactly refuse without getting caught.” Bone tried to infuse all of his hatred into his tone.

Kirk hummed. "That sounds like a you problem. But you didn't answer my question about another me."

"Yes," Bones spat, feeling vulnerable and stripped bare. "Yes, alright? I've got a Jim back home, and he's probably worried sick about me. Probably got your McCoy locked up in the brig while they try to figure out a way to send him home because they want a Leonard McCoy who ain't a fucking sadistic bastard."

"I'm sure you're right," Kirk said, tone not dissimilar one would use to humor a child. "Now tell me, not-McCoy, what are you really? Your story was cute, but I have to call bull again. So are you a shapeshifting alien of some sort, or what?"

"I'm not- Dammit, man, listen to me! I am not from this awful, bloodthirsty universe. I am Leonard Horatio McCoy, CMO of the _USS Enterprise._ While returning from a brief mission to collect flowers with medicinal properties, my shuttle encountered an ion storm, and I wound up here."

"So you claim that trip to the planet were orbiting is what switched you. Did it switch Spock, too, then?"

_Oh, shit._

"No," Bones bluffed, trying to sound as forlorn as he possibly could. "I- I dropped a couple hints, stuff that my Spock would understand, but he didn't give any indication that anything was wrong. And then he..." Here, Bones let the horror of Chekov's death seep into his voice. "Chekov, when he- _Fuck_. Spock doesn't torture. He's a pacifist where I come from, as are all Vulcans. He'd never do anything like that, especially not to Chekov."

"You did seem awfully distraught about Chekov's death." Kirk laughed. "That's one of the many, many things that gave you away. What's he like in your pretend universe?"

"It's not pretend," Bones got out through gritted teeth. "He- He's the bounciest fucking kid you'll ever meet. I've never met anyone with as much energy as the kid, and he- he _worships_ Spock and the other you. Looks up to them almost like parents."

"Sounds cute. A shame he didn't come over with you. I've never had a chance to fuck and break anyone as positive as the kid you're describing."

Sudden, unquenchable fury filled Bones, and he lashed out again, bringing his leg up and managing to land a kick on Kirk's back. Any joviality that Kirk had held vanished instantly. Bones found himself flipped over on to his back, staring up and twisted, glowing eyes and a scowling face.

"You're going to pay for that," Kirk whispered darkly.

He pulled something small from a pocket, something that Bones couldn't quite see well enough to identify, and pressed it against his side. Nothing short of pure agony infected his whole body instantly. He screamed, unable to stop and not even conscious of starting. Writhing did no good, beneath Kirk he could go nowhere and nothing alleviated the pain. He felt as if every part of him was being destroyed on a molecular level, pulled apart and decimated, from his hair to the whorls on his fingertips.

The agony only lasted a few seconds, but a few seconds was long enough that when Kirk put the handheld agonizer away, Bones remained exactly where he was even after Kirk climbed off of him. He trembled uncontrollably, muscles twitching and seizing in the aftermath while whatever powered the agonizer finished coursing through his body.

Kirk dragged him by the hands until he was closer to the divider, Bones as limp and pliant as putty in his hands. Bones twitched when a handcuff locked tight around his ankle, but he was unsure if it was a flinch or a residual effect of the agonizer. He tried to groan, to sit up and do something do defend himself, but was stopped by Kirk straddling his chest and keeping him down.

"What a shame," Kirk sighed, tipping his head and gazing at Bones speculatively. He grinned, sharp as the dagger he'd cut Bones with. "Your lack of fight when I fucked you was almost... refreshing."

Bones bared his teeth in a snarl, his whole body trembling from the adrenaline released by the agonizer. It was as if he was shivering from cold, but the room was perfectly warm. His teeth clacked, severely diminishing the effect of his snarl.

"Go to hell, asshole," he managed to sneer, unable to unclench his jaw quite yet.

Kirk beamed. "So you do have a mouth on you! A shame I won't get to enjoy it for long."

He lifted up the dagger, the blade of it reflecting the lights of his quarters, and then brought it down. It sunk neatly into Bones' shoulder, who let loose a scream unlike anything he'd ever hear himself make, almost worse than the scream pulled from him by the agonizer. While the pain from the agonizer had been everywhere, this pain was hot and sharp and _focused_.

Bones' lungs eventually gave out, his scream fading to whimpers as gray and black spots danced in front of his eyes, obscuring his vision. Tears leaked from his eyes and he didn't even try to stop them, focused solely on not passing out. Kirk's dagger remained in Bones' shoulder, the tip of it piercing the floor and pinning him like a butterfly to a board. Even the smallest, unconscious movement caused his shoulder to re-explode in agony.

Kirk, perched above him, frowned. His face seemed soft and concerned. Bones couldn't be sure, though, with the spots blurring his vision. Kirk leaned forward and pressed a kiss that could almost be described as tender to Bones' sweaty forehead, then climbed off of Bones, leaving him shaking and bleeding on the floor, barely conscious.

"...imposter. We need to take care of him, get him to talk."

Bones could barely hear Kirk talking over the sound of his own rushing blood in his ears. He was fading in and out of consciousness, dragging himself back through sheer will every time, just to hear what Kirk was saying.

"I want you to make sure he's telling the truth, and then we’ll torture him. He's got to know where the real McCoy is; the man's too good of a surgeon to lose."

Suddenly, Spock's face was hovering above him, completely impassive. He flinched away, or tried to anyways, but the knife stopped him and ripped a cry from his throat. He must've passed out, then, just after Kirk had stabbed him, because he didn't remember Spock arriving in Kirk's quarters.

"Oh, good, you're awake," Kirk commented, standing to his side. "I was a little worried I'd hit something vital and you'd bled out."

"Don't I wish," Bones muttered, his voice barely more than a sigh, eyes fluttering shut.

"Oh no you don't," Kirk snapped, kicking Bones' leg and jarring him enough to make him shout again. "We want you conscious."

"Fuck off, you murderous bastard," Bones wheezed.

"Maybe I am," Kirk admitted, shrugging. "But you're not one to be making judgements, now, are you?"

"I sure as hell am," Bones croaked. "I'm the fucking victim here, shithead."

"Uh huh. Spock, I want his claim that he's from another universe verified now."

"Yes, sir."

As Spock's hand came up to rest against Bones' psi points, Bones began to tremble. He knew it was his Spock doing this, that Spock would ensure that no real, lasting harm came to him, but the thought of having anyone in his head was revolting. Kirk had claimed his body- he was desperate to keep his mind his own.

But Spock's eyes, unable to be seen by Kirk, filled with pain when he came into contact with Bones' skin and sensed his fear, his repulsion. Bones couldn't let Spock torture himself like that, and so he squeezed his eyes shut tight as if resisting, but when Spock's mind probed gently at his with an **I am sorry Leonard, I am so sorry please forgive me I am sorry please relax I must do this for both of us,** Bones tried his best to open his mind to Spock. He wasn't particularly successful, and a twang of pain in the back of his mind told him so, but soon enough Spock was in and the two of them could see-

_Lenny is kicking his feet back and forth as he sits on a branch of one of his Grammy's many peach trees. They spread for acres, growing lush and juicy. The season is over now, though, so Lenny can climb the three without getting in trouble for peach endangerment._

_He's five years old and knows that if his mommy finds out that he's climbing a tree without supervision she'll be angry with him, but he can see so much from up here, the trees seem to stretch on forever and ever, and the sky seems so close that Lenny could just reach up and touch it._

_Oh, ow, that hurts. He reached too far and now he's on the ground, and his wrist hurts so very, very badly. He can't stop the tears, and cries and cries and cries until his mama finds him clutching his wrist to his chest, still crying._

_"Oh, Lenny, honey," she sighs, and scoops him up into her arms._

_Lenny cries into her shoulder as he's carried back to Grammy's house, where his papa is. His papa grabs his black bag and his doctor tools and takes Lenny's hand in his big, soft one and makes the pain go away._

**Leonard you must focus on what you wish for me to see, I do not wish to intrude on your privacy any more than I must.**

**_Spock I'm trying I'm trying I'm so tired_ **

**I know, Leonard.**

**_Can't you just leave now and tell him I'm telling the truth_ **

**I must remain melded with you for long enough for him to trust that I have thoroughly examined your memories and ensured that your story is correct.**

**_Spock I hurt_ **

**I know. Think of pleasant memories, Leonard. It will make this easier.**

And now they're watching

_"Booooooones," Jim whines, his head tipped back so it hangs off of the bed, legs crossed and propped up on the wall. Why he can't do that on his own bed, Bones doesn't know. It's just feet away, on the other side of their small dorm room. He also doesn't know what Jim is even complaining about._

_"What?" Bones snaps._

_"Pay attention to me."_

_"I am. You make it hard to do anything else, kid."_

_"Thank you," Jim says, sounding smug._

_"That wasn't a compliment."_

_Jim does some sort of twisting, flipping thing that takes him off of the bed and onto his feet, then looks at Bones with arms spread and declares, "Ta da!"_

_"Do you use that on all of the ladies?" Bones asks dryly._

_The light coming through the window makes Jim's hair look gold, makes his eyes shine like neon. His smile is too bright and too wide and Bones suddenly feels very small and insignificant, compared to him._

_"Just my favorites." Jim winks and saunters towards the bathroom, unbothered by his shirtless state and the fact that his pants are loose and keep sliding down his hips._

_Bones shakes his head and gets back to work, and pretends that if he ignores his blush, then it'll disappear._

**You love Jim.**

**_Yeah I do but I didn't want anyone to know because he'll never love me back but it's okay I'm okay_ **

**Leonard, he does love you back.**

**_No he doesn'tcan'twon't I'm not worth it not enough_ **

**Yes you are. Leonard, we have spent enough time in the meld. I am going to leave now.**

Spock's disengagement was gentle to the point where Bones hardly even noticed it, but he sure as hell noticed the return of his pain in full force, enough to make him weep again. He gasped for air, trying not to irritate his shoulder.

"So, Spock?" Kirk asked.

"He is telling the truth. An accident brought him to this universe, and he merely wishes to return home."

"Hmm." Bones pried his eyes open to see Kirk staring at him as if in consideration. "He's committed some crimes while here. Lying to a captain, attacking a captain, impersonating an Imperial Fleet officer... in the spirit of fairness, I'll have to punish him for that."

_Please not the agony booth,_ Bones prayed to any diety out there. The handheld agonizer alone had been awful. He couldn't imagine the actual booth.

"Take him to the torture chambers," Kirk ordered. "He'll be punished there until McCoy finds a way back- which I don't doubt he will."

Bones suddenly wished that Kirk had stuck him in the agony booth instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Just as a heads-up, I currently drowning in math and no longer have as much time as I did last semester, so once this fic (which I have fully finished and am just uploading bit by bit) is fully posted, my writing/posting rate will sadly decrease. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!


	12. Chapter 12

"You're amazing," Jim breathed, a grin creeping across his face. He pulled McCoy into another kiss, and was still smiling when he released him. "Absolutely the best boyfriend ever."

"Am I?" McCoy asked.

"Mhmm." Jim kissed McCoy again and then said, "Please give that to me, I feel like someone is trying to beat their way out of my skull with a hammer."

"Sure thing, sweetheart."

McCoy pressed the hypospray to Jim's neck, where it unloaded with a soft _schhhhh_ sound. Jim sighed and smiled.

"I love you so much," he said, draping his arms over McCoy's shoulders and kissing him again. "It's plays well into my plans that you brought headache meds with you, because all I want to do right now is just take a nap with you."

"Is that it?"

"That's it."

Jim pressed a gentle kiss to McCoy's lips, then placed kisses in a zigzagging pattern that journeyed over to McCoy's ears, up across his forehead, down around his temple and then ended over his eye. McCoy didn't know what to do with anyone who was so disgustingly affectionate, so he just stood and allowed Jim to roam. In his arms, Jim was a solid weight, melting into him as if each kiss he placed on McCoy had been placed on him instead.

"I really do love you," Jim murmured, a hand coming up to rest on the side of McCoy's face and stroke his cheek with a thumb.

"Well that's perfect," McCoy replied, leaning in to kiss Jim. "'Cause funny enough, I love you too."

Jim laughed, took McCoy’s hands in his own gentle but calloused hands, and led McCoy to the bed. They collapsed on top of it when Jim hit the bed and his knees buckled, but he didn't seem to mind at all. His eyes were brighter than McCoy had ever seen Kirk's be, and his smile seemed to glow.

"Love you, Bones," Jim said, pulling McCoy down firmly on top of him and pressing kisses to all the places he could reach- namely, McCoy's face. He spoke in between kisses. "I love you. Bones, I love you. I love you, Leonard McCoy."

And that was what caused something deep and forgotten to pang in McCoy's chest, something that ached for love and tenderness instead of brutality. When was the last time he had heard anyone sound so genuine and soft? Not once had even Jocelyn sounded so loving.

Suddenly a wave of grief washed over McCoy, sweeping through him without remorse. He'd already given Jim the toxin, could do nothing but wait for it to kick in. Jim's eyes shone with love, his fingers gentle as they stroked through his hair. The horror of what he'd just done hit him like a wall, freezing his blood.

He was a monster, well and truly.

"Are you okay?" Jim asked, frowning slightly. He leaned up just a bit to kiss McCoy's nose.

"Fine," McCoy managed. He pressed a kiss to Jim's temple, heart pounding. "Just stay here. I've gotta use the bathroom, but I'll be right back."

"Mmmm, okay." Jim was clearly reluctant to let McCoy go, but allowed him to leave.

In the bathroom, McCoy leaned against the wall and wondered at his new revelation. How had he ever been able to stomach the idea of doing something like poisoning Jim? If McCoy had confessed, Jim would hardly have thrown them in the brig. It would’ve done no good in getting his own Leonard McCoy back. If anything, Jim would’ve make his and Spock's issue the ship's main concern.

Was this what having a real, true conscience was like? McCoy hated it.

_Pull yourself together,_ he told himself firmly. _You are an officer of the Imperial Fleet, a member of the Terran Empire. You don't need a conscience; they only hinder._

A settling feeling came over McCoy, and he glanced at a small chronometer display on the mirror. It had been almost ten minutes. He took a deep breath and led the bathroom, guilt swirling in him but easily dismissible.

When McCoy exited the bathroom, he found Jim standing in the middle of his living area, staring down at the floor with a concentrated look on his face. McCoy squished the guilt that tried to rise again, cursing Jim for reigniting the conscience he thought had died.

"Hey Bones?" Jim asked, looking up. He was frowning, eyes not as bright as they could be. "I don't... I don't feel too good."

"I'm sure you're just tired," McCoy said, going to Jim and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"No." Jim shook his head, then blinked hard and swayed some. "No, Bones, there's something wrong. I don't feel right."

McCoy sighed and stepped back, saying nothing.

"Bones?" Jim looked at him with pleading eyes, his pallor rather sickly. Upon further inspection, he was sweating, too, a bead rolling from his temple. "Bones, seriously, something's wrong."

"Nothing is wrong," McCoy said dismissively, giving up the game. It wasn't like Jim would be conscious to tell anyone. "Everything is working like it should."

"No, Bones," Jim protested, swaying again. His breathing was light and rapid- hyperventilation, one of the effects. "Bones, I-"

His knees gave out suddenly, and McCoy reached out to catch him. Jim trembled in his arms as McCoy lowered him to the ground. McCoy knelt next to Jim, observing the toxin in action. Jim's eyes were wide, too blue and not blue enough.

"Bones," he whispered, pleading. "Bones, something's wrong, you gotta fix it. You always fix it.”

He tried to sit up, but was held down by McCoy’s hands on his shoulders and settled for gripping McCoy's forearms instead. His eyes were a whirlpool of confusion and panic, but there was no anger or betrayal. Had he not figured it out yet?

"Bones?" His trembling was intense and full-bodied, now, and McCoy could feel how hot and sweaty Jim’s hands were through his uniform fabric. "Bones, what-?"

He was slipping into unconsciousness, now, only had seconds left.

"Jesus fucking Christ, kid," McCoy snapped, anger flaring in him. "Stop calling me 'Bones.'"

McCoy expected realization and betrayal to cross Jim's face, then, but they didn't. Jim just stared at him, confused and so full of hurt that it made McCoy's chest ache with guilt, and slid silently into unconsciousness. His hands slipped from McCoy's and thumped against the deck, eyes closing.

"Fuck," McCoy muttered, bowing his head. "Fuck you, kid."

He stared at Jim's face for a moment, pale and sweaty and twitching as the nightmares began, and felt guilt creep out from his torso and down his limbs until he felt leaden with the weight of what he'd done. He tried to glare, but it was weak and he knew it. His conscience, newly revived, was none too happy with him for what he'd done, both here and back home. McCoy scowled and shook his head as if to physically dispel thoughts. He couldn't allow his conscience to control him, or even to bother him all that much, or he'd likely lose his mind.

McCoy commed sickbay and said, in a mildly panicked voice, "McCoy to sickbay, the captain is unconscious. I don't know what happened; I'm bringing him down now. Stand by with a medical team."

"Yes sir," Chapel replied, prompt as ever, and disconnected.

McCoy scooped up Jim, carrying the surprisingly light captain in his arms, and exited the room. Jim twitched and shivered, his head coming to rest on McCoy's shoulder. In the halls, crewman stared and scattered as McCoy barreled down the hall cradling their revered captain.

When he burst through the doors to sickbay, he was directed right to a biobed, where a team of nurses were waiting. He set Jim down gently on the biobed, then shooed away the nurses.

"There's too damn many of you," he snapped. "I'll call you if I need you."

He didn't end up needing them, which was good, because if he needed them then one of them might have noticed the toxin in his system. He ran some unnecessary scans on Jim, forged results, and then added those to Jim's chart.

Beta shift had started before McCoy had even given Jim the toxin, but McCoy delayed enough that the beta shift had long since started by the time he was done. These nurses weren't quite as stellar as the Alpha shift nurses, and would probably be less likely to discover what had really happened.

"So what's going on?" one of the nurses asked when McCoy had left Jim's side for more than five seconds.

"A dormant virus. It reacted badly with his headache medicine."

"A virus? From where?"

"From the planet."

"Well then, shouldn't we bring everyone who went down to the planet, and scan them for the virus too?"

"An excellent idea. Why don't you and your nurses get right on that? I can handle Jim."

The nurse nodded, her slender little neck seeming to small to hold up her head, and disappeared into some corner of sickbay. McCoy let out a sigh and returned to Jim's side. It would be more complicated now that Jim was in sickbay, with nurses who could at any moment discover McCoy's farce.

Jim was pale and twitching, still, the worst of the toxin not yet having affected him. The really bad nightmares would come then, along with- if he was unlucky- the screaming. McCoy had initially looked forward to hearing Jim scream under any circumstances possible, but not anymore.

"Leonard," someone said. McCoy turned to find Geoffrey M'Benga, a concerned look on his face. McCoy's heart seemed to stutter. He'd killed M'Benga just a week prior, slit his throat and left him to choke on his own blood in his last moments. His rejuvenated conscience, a royal nuisance, caused guilt to form a lump in his throat.

"Geoffrey," McCoy croaked.

"Leonard, come on, go to bed- or at least back to your quarters. I know you're worried about the captain, but he's in capable hands."

"I-" McCoy stopped himself and then sighed. "I can't leave him," he whispered. "He's stable, but..."

"Are you remembering Khan?" M'Benga asked gently.

"Yeah," McCoy replied a little sullenly, with no clue of what he was agreeing to.

"Hey, c'mon Leonard," M'Benga said. He put a hand on McCoy's shoulder. "You've brought Jim back from beyond the grave, literally. A simple virus won't take him down- you and I both know that."

Beyond the grave? Now that was interesting. McCoy would have to look it up later, if he ever got the chance, but he suspected that any records of him bringing someone back from the dead would be deeply buried.

"Doesn't stop me from worrying." McCoy shook his head. "I'll... I think I'll stay here, just to make sure."

"Okay. I can have a cot brought over for you, if you want."

"No, no cot. Just a chair is fine."

"Okay. Let me know if you need anything, yeah? The nurses won't bother you or Jim- I know how much of a control freak you are when it comes to him."

"Thanks, Geoff."

"Not a problem."

M'Benga disappeared into a supply closet and emerged with a rickety old plastic chair. McCoy almost laughed. It was the same chair that existed in his own universe, ugly and uncomfortable. Technology advanced, but plastic chairs sure didn't.

McCoy took the chair from him and set it by Jim's bedside as M'Benga pulled the privacy curtain around them. McCoy smiled and shook his head as he settled into the chair. M'Benga had played perfectly into his plans- allowing McCoy to stay, drawing the curtains, promising that the nurses wouldn't disturb them. McCoy could hardly have asked for a better outcome.

Good outcome or no, McCoy's revived conscience was stubbornly insisting that what McCoy had done was wrong and he needed to fix Jim immediately. He shifted in the chair, more mentally uncomfortable than physically uncomfortable. McCoy stared at Jim's face, the dark brow knitted with discomfort and sweat heading on his forehead. He didn't have to look like that, ill and pained.

"Leonard," he remembered his mother telling him once, "don't let this universe destroy who you are. Keep your conscience safe."

He looked down at his hands, clasped in front of him, and frowned. All throughout his life, he'd never wanted to disappoint his mother. Anyone else he couldn't have cared less about, but his mother...

_I'm sorry, mama,_ McCoy thought _._

He looked up at Jim, and thought of how genuinely good the man was. He thought of gentle kisses and bright smiles and glowing eyes, and of the complete trust that Jim had in him. Had had in him- McCoy had no clue how broken that trust was.

_And_ _I'm_ _sorry,_ _Jim_ , he added, hoping foolishly that somehow Jim could hear him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! My homework load shows no sign of lessening, which really sucks for my writing, but I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: A flashback/panic attack at the beginning of the chapter, and the use of the word rape.

Kirk at least had the good grace to have a scrawny, skittish nurse fix up his shoulder before he was strung up by his wrists in an empty room with blood stained floors. He was stripped of his clothes besides his underwear, and the temperature of the room was such that Bones had to fight not to shiver. There, Bones was left for hours with nothing to do but try not to panic, his toes barely brushing the floor. His arms hurt and then went numb above him, which Bones was a little grateful for.

He was left alone for long enough that he was able to quite thoroughly contemplate life. Now that he didn't have to constantly worry about not getting caught, he was able to truly reflect on what he'd seen, what he'd been forced to do. He squeezed his eyes shut as if that would help him dispel the recollection of fingers gripping his hips brutally and memories of hot breath gusting over his ears.

_"So fucking tight,"_ the phantom Kirk breathed. _"So good for me. You fucking live for this, don't you? Spend all day waiting to end up on my cock."_

Bile rose in Bones' throat and he tried to hold it back but failed. He gagged on bitter, acidic vomit and when he was finished heaving, he hung from the chains, shaking. He pressed his eyes shut and tried to think of his Jim, of how relieved he'd be when Spock finally managed to get them back.

When.

He couldn't even bear to think _if_ instead of _when_.

Hunger began to twist his stomach, thirst constructing his throat and causing a dull ache to grow in his head. On top of the lingering headache from the meld with Spock, Bones’ head was truly aching. At one point, he found himself tempted to ask the guard who was no doubt monitoring him for a hypospray to alleviate his pain. He knew he'd never get it, but his head was throbbing painfully.

Finally, after what Bones estimated was probably Kirk's entire shift, the captain himself slipped into the room where Bones was being held. He looked impeccable as ever, not a hair out of place. Bones couldn't help but wonder how he looked, strung up and being left to stew in his own vomit and- unfortunately- urine.

"It smells like shit in here," Kirk commented.

"Vomit and piss," Bones corrected him dryly. "It's what happens when you string a man up for hours without giving him a goddamn bathroom break."

Kirk shrugged, and then smirked. "You're telling me you vomit when you don't get bathroom breaks?"

"No. The vomit is from recalling memories of your tiny dick."

Kirk's expression blackened, and he stepped forward to backhand Bones. Using his tongue, Bones prodded at his lip, an iron tang spreading throughout his mouth. He scowled at Kirk, who still looked infuriated.

"Wasn't so tiny when you were choking on it," Kirk shot back.

"Why the fuck am I even down here?" Bones asked. "You couldn't just have Spock rummage around in my head some more and tell you everything you want to know? I've told you everything you should need anyways."

"It's less fun that way." Kirk shrugged.

"Well if you're going to torture me for being a shitty actor, I think you at least owe me an explanation as to how you knew I wasn't your Leonard McCoy."

Kirk laughed. "Where do I even begin?" He began to count on his fingers, smiling all the while. "Your reaction when I called you to my ready room just after your return; the way you acted that whole evening, when I stuffed your mouth with my cock; everything about that thing with Chekov- my McCoy would've been elated to see Chekov go, you know." He seemed to think some more, while something ugly and hot grew in Bones. "Everything about how you acted when I actually fucked you was a giveaway. The kicker was the Tantalus Field. My McCoy already knew about it. In fact, I think the only thing you did marginally right was suggesting that I not kill Lieutenant Moreau in her sleep.”

Hot, bubbling nausea was seated in his stomach, his chest, lodging in his throat. He tried to speak, but words failed him. He tried again, and although he got words out they were strangled and rough.

"You knew?" He demanded. "This... This whole time, you _knew?_ You were just playing with me?"

"Yeah." Kirk grinned, his teeth like blades. "You beg much prettier than I thought you would."

Bones snarled at Kirk, fury and embarrassment and revulsion twisting inside of him, hollowing him out like termites in a tree. If it would've done anything, Bones would've lashed out and kicked Kirk with all of his strength.

"Aw, did I make you upset? Too fucking bad."

Kirk approached, his blade in hand and his eyes glittering like the sharp steel he held. Bones couldn't move as Kirk swung and sliced a neat line across his stomach, tried his best to stifle a shout at the blazing pain. When he gasped for air, his chest and stomach heaved, and the wound flared bright again. Bones pinched his lips shut tightly and tipped his head back, trying to keep his agony internal.

"You had the audacity to try and trick me," Kirk growled. He was pacing like a lethal predator- which in all honesty, he was. "How stupid do you think I am?"

"I know better than to think that any version of you is anything but a genius," Bones said through gritted teeth, still trying to control the pain from the wound on his stomach. "I was just trying to survive long enough to get home. You don't believe me, I know, but I have no sinister plans. This universe is a place of nightmares." Kirk had stopped pacing and was scrutinizing him with cold eyes. "I just... I just want to go home. To my ship, my crew, to a Captain Kirk who doesn't fucking _torture_ people. I'm sure McCoy had been caught by now, too, but I know he sure as hell isn't being tortured. He's probably just laying in the brig while Spock and Jim and everyone else try and find a way to get me back."

"I think you underestimate McCoy," Kirk murmured, quiet enough that Bones had to strain to hear him. "He could take over your whole fucking ship by himself if he wanted to."

Bones hung silently for a moment, just looking at Kirk. He was staring right at Bones, but his gaze was far away. In the depths of his eyes, in a place Bones knew he wasn't supposed to see, he could identify something like worry.

Like love.

"Oh," Bones breathed, ignoring how his blood was running sticky down his stomach to soak the waistband of his underwear. "Oh, you're in love with him." Kirk's eyes sharpened, coming back to the present and fixing Bones with such a furious look that he almost quailed under it. The fragile expression hiding just behind Kirk's anger told Bones everything he needed to know, though. "That's why you're torturing me. You're scared for him and you don't know what to do, because helping him is completely beyond your control. That's all this is; you're just taking out all your frustration at not being able to help him on me.”

"Keep your mouth shut," Kirk hissed. He was shaking apart, his secret vocalized. Bones had to hide a triumphant grin.

"I didn't recognize it at first because I'm not a goddamn barbarian like you are," Bones breathed, "but in your own sick, twisted way, you really do love him."

"I said keep your mouth shut!" Kirk snapped, and within a moment buried his dagger in Bones' thigh.

Bones screamed, the pain of it so sharp and acute that he barely managed to refrain from vomiting again. Tears he couldn't hold back streamed down his face as his leg exploded in agony, seemed to catch fire and keep burning.

It was only after he had screamed himself hoarse and hung limp and trembling from his chains that he realized there was no noise at all besides his gasping and sniffling. When he summoned the energy to raise his head, Kirk was gone. He wondered absently what Kirk was going to do without his dagger, which was still buried in his leg.

He looked down at the handle, at the blood that seeped from the cut down his leg. While he was thankful that the knife was still in his leg and therefore preventing him from bleeding more, the sight of it was sickening. Bones was a doctor, sure, but he was entirely unused to seeing himself so wounded.

Some time later, Spock arrived. Bones was on the verge of passing out, dizzy from a combination of blood loss, dehydration, and hunger. He blinked blearily at Spock, and although the was hurting he had the ability to recognize that the room was most certainly under surveillance.

"Awesome," Bones rasped sarcastically. "My favorite green-blooded bastard."

"I do not believe that you are in any position to be passing judgement," Spock replied.

"Says who, your captain?" Bones spat at Spock, missing him purposefully but not by much. "Tell him he's a fucking coward."

"You wish to aggravate the captain even more?" Spock raised a condescending eyebrow. "I do believe you have suffered damage to your mental faculties, then."

"And whose fault would that be?" Bones scowled at Spock. "My head still hurts thanks to your goddamn Vulcan voodoo shit."

Spock's eyes flash with hurt, brief but there, and Bones feels regret for pushing just a little too far. He had to keep up the act, though. He couldn't let anyone even suspect that Spock wasn't actually from this universe.

If he couldn't save himself, at least he could do his best to save Spock.

"If you had not struggled, it would not have hurt."

Bones snorted, then had to bite his lip harshly to keep from vocalizing his pain when he aggravated his wounds. Spock approached him, footsteps slow and deliberate. Bones curled his lip at the Vulcan.

"Get your telepathic ass away from me."

"I do not take orders from you, Doctor."

Spock's fingers came to rest on Bones' psi points, and Bones tried to jerk his head away to no avail. Spock's fingertips were oddly soft, and through them came a sense of calm. Bones knew it wasn't his own calm, but he couldn't quite bring himself to care.

**Leonard, I have a plan, but you must trust me completely.**

**_What does the plan involve?_ **

**In essence, I will remove your mind from your body. I must torture you, and by allowing me to do what I feel is necessary, your body will react but you will not truly feel the torture.**

**_You can do that?_ **

**Yes.**

**_Do it, then._ **

**I must warn you before, when I remove your mind I will have to cause pain that you will feel. It must be believed by others that I was not in here to comfort and assist you, but to cause you mental distress before causing you physical distress.**

**_I can handle it, Spock. Some mental pain in exchange for not feeling a hell of a lot of physical pain? I'll take it._ **

**Okay. I will leave your mind now, Leonard.**

**_Stay safe, Spock._ **

**I could say the same to you.**

Spock's disentangling from Leonard's mind was almost gentle, until a wave of bright, blazing pain swept through Leonard's mind. He let out a low moan, unable to even vocalize the scale of his pain. It felt as if his mind was melting, torn apart at an atomic level.

But behind all of the mental agony, he felt something small shift. The pain from his leg and stomach disappeared, melting like butter. Soon enough the mental pain flickered and died like an ancient lightbulb, and Bones was left feeling rather floaty and strangely numb. It was like those moments after emerging from anesthesia, where everything is hazy and nothing quite makes sense.

Bones floated for hours, or so it felt like. He could feel the lines cut into him with blades, the whipping, the beatings, but all of it felt far away and unreal. Nothing hurt. The cuts felt like a fingernail being dragged across his skin, the whip felt like a pat on the back, the beatings felt like being hit by a furless tribble.

He could feel his body reacting to the torture, which was quite odd. He could feel his body twitching and jerking, could feel a sandpaper-roughness in his throat, a result of the screaming he could barely hear. If he focused, he could actually process what his eyes were seeing. Spock's features, stony but ever so slightly pinched. Red blood staining the tips of Spock's fingers like he was no more than a child making a macabre fingerprinted masterpiece.

In the end, Spock finished up and left him hanging, bloody and hungry and thirsty. He couldn't feel any of it, but he knew that he was hungry and thirsty and in pain. The silence after Spock has left gave Bones time to mentally come back to himself somewhat, to break through the fog that clouded his mind.

He nearly sighed in relief when two rather burly guards entered the room with a stretcher and a nurse. They wouldn't let him die- they needed their own McCoy back. He knew he was just being fixed up to be tortured more, but he was desperate to lay down, to move his arms, to leave this room.

The guards weren't exactly gentle when they pulled him down, but it didn't matter because his mind was disconnected from the pain. On the stretcher, his head lolled on his neck as he was brought to sickbay. They passed a few people in the hallways, and they all looked almost like they'd seen a ghost when they looked at him.

He supposed it would probably be frightening, seeing one who they probably thought was so close to Captain Kirk after being tortured. Kirk's blade was still embedded in his leg, the handle of it uniquely engraved to let anyone who saw it know whose blade it was. How terrifying must that be to them, he mused, seeing their already unstable leader become unstable to the point of torturing his own doctor?

In sickbay, still hazy from whatever Spock had done, he could see Chapel's face above him as he focused. Her eyes gleamed wickedly, and Bones could tell she was beyond pleased that he was laid out on a biobed in his own sickbay. He wasn't worried about any pain, but he was concerned that she might 'accidentally' kill him.

"The captain isn't done with him," snapped one of his burly escorts. "So don't even think about it."

The next thing he knew, the heaviness of sedation began to tug at him, and he slid without fuss into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! My writing has even really slow recently due to massive amounts of homework, so the sequels for this are going to take far longer than I'd like to post. But besides that, I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	14. Chapter 14

The nightmares started before too long, which McCoy had fully expected. It was just twitching at first, almost dismissible except for the fact that McCoy knew what he was looking for. Jim had been pale and sweaty for a while, but he was even paler now, and sweatier. His hair had darkened to a brown with the sweat that McCoy could see beading on his hairline, dripping down his temple. His skin was taking on a grayish pallor, and McCoy was sure that if he opened Jim's eyes they'd be a remarkable contrast.

Instead of screaming, he whimpered and cried, which McCoy was thankful for. It would draw less attention, the crying. Jim tossed his head fitfully from side to side, the muscles in his face twitching like the rest of his body. His brows knitted in extreme distress and he let out low whimpers and quiet sobs. There were murmurs intermixed with the sounds, but McCoy couldn't make them out until the nightmares for more intense, more potent.

"Bones," Jim whimpered. McCoy watched as a tear leaked from the corner of his eye and slid into his hairline, intermingling with the sweat there. "Bones, no, no..."

McCoy raised his eyebrows. It was curious that Jim was dreaming of Bones- although perhaps not, considering that he'd been the last person Jim had seen. McCoy itched to know what was going on in Jim's head, what his worst nightmares looked like.

McCoy could tell when Jim's dream changed, which he found incredibly interesting. Jim's face went through a series of spasms, and his expression shifted from something like worry to something far more fearful. He gave a full-body tremble and let out a low, frightened moan.

"No," he gasped. It looked like he was trying to sink into the bed and escape from someone. He let out a small cry and sobbed, "No, please." He dissolved into tears again as McCoy watched, a sick, ugly mix of guilt and regret twisting in his chest. Jim gasped and tossed his head, tears streaming freely down his face now. "'M so hungry..."

Hungry?

That was odd. Perhaps he had a fear of starving to death. It was a reasonable fear, considering how slow and painful that was. Kirk used hunger to get prisoners to talk sometimes, and McCoy had been left to deal with the husks and occasional corpse of those prisoners.

"Doctor?"

McCoy's head snapped up, and he peered at Spock distrustfully. The Vulcan had pulled the end of the curtain to the side some so he could enter Jim's little semi-cubicle.

"What?" McCoy barked.

"I have found a way home. We will be able to leave in an hour."

"Will we? Good."

"Meet me in the transporter room in an hour. The process can be delayed for up to half an hour, but do not tarry.”

“I would, but I think you should call me away. It'd be uncharacteristic of Bones to leave without a damn good reason, like a summons.”

“Very well. I will come and collect you in an hour, then.”

"Got it." McCoy looked over at Jim, who was sobbing quietly and muttering nonsense about wheat, and then back at Spock. "You're dismissed, Commander."

Spock disappeared as quietly as he'd come. McCoy looked at Jim, at the tears spilling from his eyes and the little jerks of his chest as he sobbed. It almost hurt, seeing Jim like that. McCoy found himself intensely regretful to leave Jim in such a state for longer than was strictly necessary.

He stood and peered around the curtain into sickbay. M'Benga was helping to fix up an engineer who had burnt their forearm, but nobody else seemed to be around. He stepped into the main part of sickbay, nodding to M'Benga as he passed him.

"I'll be right back," he told M'Benga.

"Okay." M'Benga gave him a slightly concerned look. "Do you want me to watch Jim?"

"No." He shook his head. "I'll be quick. I just need to grab something from my quarters."

"Alright then."

He was sure all of the Beta shift officers that he passed in the hallway were confused by his presence when he should've been long off-shift. Any inquisitive glances were felled by a scowl. It took very little time for him to reach his quarters, and he looked longingly at the bed.

His PADD was easy to find, and he thought he'd be able to make it back undisturbed until Chekov caught him in the hallway on the way back to the turbolift. The kid's hair was as bouncy as ever, but he was fidgety and clearly worried. Chekov twisted his hands together, shifting his weight from the heel to the balls of his feet.

"Doctor," he began timidly, "ees zee Keptin okay? I heard... I heard he has a bug from zee planet. I do not hawe it, but he does, da?"

"Yeah." McCoy sighed. "Yeah, he's got a nasty bug. It'll be okay, kid. I'll find something to cure him."

"I know." Chekov nodded. "I know you will. You are his doctor, he trusts you to always fix him." He smiled almost shyly. "We all trust you."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." McCoy gave a weak smile, giving off the impression that Chekov's words had helped to cheer him up, but just a little.

"Not a problem, doctor. Anytime."

Chekov continued down the hall, some pep back in his step. McCoy shook his head and kept walking. It was odd, the cult-like devotion that Jim's entire crew seemed to have. Back in McCoy's universe, loyalty was rare. There were very few who were genuinely loyal to Kirk, and they showed only a fraction of the devotion that the population of an entire starship seemed to show Jim.

The turbolift stopped a few floors above sickbay, and McCoy resisted a heavy sigh when Uhura stepped in to the turbolift. Weren't they supposed to be asleep? It was far into Beta shift. When she saw him, her delicate brows furrowed with something like sympathy.

"Oh, Leonard," she sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Nothin' for you to be sorry 'bout."

"I heard about what happened with Jim. You were with him?"

Jesus, it seemed that gossip flew equally as fast aboard this ship and the one from his universe. That, at least, looked like it was a universal constant.

"Not really. I came out of the bathroom and..." He shrugged. "He was already down."

Uhura reached out and pressed a button that brought the turbolift to a halt. McCoy silently cursed the incredibly sappy nature of everyone in this universe. Couldn't they have left the conversation there and let McCoy return to sickbay?

The next thing McCoy knew, Uhura was wrapping her arms around him. McCoy was stiff for a moment before slowly hugging her back, completely stupefied. In his own universe, Uhura would rather slit his throat than hug him. It was... nice, though, being hugged. He hadn't been hugged by anybody in a long time before his weird trip into another universe. Uhura was warm and soft, and McCoy certainly wasn't going to reject something so pure in intent.

"You'll figure out how to fix him," Uhura said, her time full of confidence. "I know you will. You always do."

"I know," McCoy replied. "I have to."

Uhura nodded at him, her face so full of sadness- sadness for _him_ \- that McCoy was struck speechless for a moment. She reached out and restarted the turbolift, which took him to sickbay's deck within no more than two seconds.

"Don't forget to sleep," Uhura told him as the turbolift doors slid shut.

Sickbay was as quiet as it normally was, filled with the gentle buzz of the ship's engines. The privacy curtains around Jim's bed were still drawn, and McCoy disappeared behind them before he could be caught by another well-wishing crew member. He was done with playing the kinder doctor of this universe.

"Bones?" Jim murmured just as McCoy drew the curtain back into place.

McCoy froze for a second, heart leaping into his throat. Had Jim regained consciousness so close to their escape? Everything could be ruined if he’d come back to consciousness before they left.

But no, upon inspection Jim was still very much unconscious. He was soaking wet, his throat working but making no sound. McCoy sighed in relief and set his PADD down on the plastic chair. He'd have to set up an IV to replenish all of the fluids that Jim had lost just by sweating.

"Is everything okay?" M'Benga asked after finding McCoy with one of the few old-fashioned saline drips they had.

"Yeah," McCoy said, waving a hand. "He's sweating a lot, I'm just making sure he doesn't get dehydrated."

"Alright. Again, let me know if there's anything I can do for you."

"Absolutely, Geoff."

McCoy hooked Jim up to the saline drip quickly and then sat back down in the hellishly uncomfortable plastic chair. He opened his PADD and created a note, but could only stare blankly at the page, the blinking cursor.

"Spock?" Jim asked, his voice carrying a young tone. "No, Spock..."

McCoy pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn't help but want to fix Jim, undo what he'd done, but he couldn't do that without jeopardizing their entire mission. Jim would have been willing to help before he was poisoned by McCoy, but now McCoy knew he'd just be thrown directly into the brig.

The least he could do, then, was to explain what he'd done and how to fix it. That way, Jim's 'Bones' wouldn't have to figure it out himself. Jim would suffer for as little time as possible.

The hour was nearly up when McCoy sighed and shut off the PADD, the instructions and letter complete. He set the PADD under Jim's hand so Bones could find it and then sat back in his chair, just looking at Jim.

He thought of Kirk as he gazed at Jim. They were almost identical, physically, aside from the amount of muscles and the scars. Kirk obviously had far more- the result of living in such a brutal universe. McCoy didn't mind scars, and he didn't mind smooth skin either.

A sudden memory struck McCoy, one of the few times he'd ever seen Kirk sleeping. It was rare, being able to see Kirk when he was anything other than completely lethal, but McCoy had. He treasured those memories.

_Kirk is sprawled out next to McCoy, fast asleep. He had been up for over a day straight dealing with a crisis, and McCoy had been prepared for a hard fuck when Kirk called him to his quarters. Instead, he'd been used only as a body pillow, a bed warmer in the truest sense. Kirk hadn't even laid a dagger to his throat; he'd just tugged McCoy close with his ridiculously muscled arms and laid himself rather on top of McCoy._

_"Don't fucking talk," Kirk had ordered when McCoy had opened his mouth to speak._

_Now, McCoy has woken inexplicably in the night and Kirk is deep in an exhausted stupor beside him. Kirk has always been an incredibly light sleeper, as is almost necessary for an Imperial captain, but McCoy can tell he's out cold. If he wanted to, he could easily kill Kirk._

_But that would make Spock the captain, so no, it's better not to do that. Besides, Kirk tolerates McCoy's mouth unlike any other captain would. He's got a good thing going with Kirk, really. Hell, he could honestly claim to kind of like the man._

_Kirk's lips are parted slightly, pink and plush, and his hair is matted in parts where it was pressed against his pillow when he first fell asleep. He's sprawling across the bed now, one of his legs falling across McCoy's legs and one of his hands brushing McCoy's side._

_A small, jerky movement brings McCoy's focus back to Kirk's face. It's tense, his brows knitted and his lips downturned. McCoy just watches in awe. It's a rare occasion indeed to see Kirk in distress- he's happy, and he's pissed off, and he's horny, but he's never distressed._

_"No," he murmurs, head twitching again. His hand balls into a fist and then relaxes against McCoy. "No, 's mine."_

_McCoy rolls his eyes. Of course the possessive bastard is having a bad dream about someone stealing something of his._

_Kirk twitches again, and McCoy realizes that Jim is in the process of waking up. He quickly lays his head back down on the pillow, and just in time. Kirk jerks awake with a gasp and then flops back down on the bed, panting loudly._

_"Fuck," he whispers harshly, and then again, with more passion._ "Fuck." _It sounds like he's had an unpleasant epiphany._

_There's the shifting of furs and sheets as Kirk slides out of bed. McCoy pretends to stir, and props himself up on his elbows and blinks blearily at Kirk._

_"What is it?" he asks. "The ship on fire, or somethin'?"_

_"Something," Kirk snaps dismissively. He's standing at the bottom of the bed, one hand fisted in his hair and the other on his hips. He drops them both when he sees McCoy looking, crossing his arms instead. "Go back to sleep."_

_"You're stressing too much." McCoy lowers himself back down onto his back and closes his eyes. "Fuckin' projecting or some shit. There's no way I can sleep."_

_"I'm not stressing." Kirk's tone is just slightly petulant._

_"'Kay." McCoy lets his tone inform Kirk that he doesn't believe him one bit. "Then come back to bed. We've still got hours until we have to get up."_

_Kirk's motions seem stiff as he climbs back into bed, pulling McCoy roughly into their usual position, with McCoy functioning as the little spoon. McCoy lets himself be manipulated, sensing Kirk's disquiet like a physical entity. Kirk's hand comes to rest almost gently around the front of McCoy's throat, the usual dagger strangely absent. McCoy can feel it under his head through the pillow, the barest firmness of the handle._

_It's not too long before McCoy slides into sleep, puzzled but not upset._

He blinked back to himself and found his eyes still focused on Jim, still sweating and twitching. When he looked up at a hint of movement, Spock was peering at him with dark eyes. McCoy's heart lurched but he didn't let it show, and internally chided himself on letting Spock get so close without noticing.

"Time to go?"

"Affirmative."

McCoy nodded and stood, then spared a last look for Jim. He watched as a tear traced its way down Jim’s temple into his hair, and let the pang of guilt spike in his gut. He deserved the pain, and he embraced it.

He thought of how Jim had been before he'd been poisoned, of his bright eyes and wide smile and soft kisses. McCoy would never get that again, he knew. He wouldn't get that tenderness and pure love from Kirk, and that was for sure. Silently, he bid goodbye to Jim, who he'd become somewhat enamored with over the past few days.

"Let's go, then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! There's nothing much to say, except that I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, like always. Also, don't be afraid to drop a comment- they make me so happy when I'm super stressed like I've been recently!


	15. Chapter 15

Bones emerged from unconsciousness abruptly, a curtain drawn around his bed preventing him from seeing the rest of sickbay. There was the soft, familiar sounds of various monitors, and below it all was the gentle rumble of the ship's engine. All was silent, apart from that.

Within moments of him waking, Chapel slipped behind the curtains into the area around his biobed. He tipped his head to look at her, his mind still hazy.

"So tell me, good doctor," Chapel began, "how did the captain's CMO and favorite bed warmer end up in sickbay with the captain's knife embedded in his thigh?"

"By not being the CMO from this universe," Bones replied, voice scratchy.

"By-?" Chapel raised her eyebrows. "Really?"

"God's honest truth. I got switched up with my counterpart from this universe. The captain found out, and he wasn't too happy about it."

"I can see that." Chapel smirked, just a little bit.

"You upset me," Bones informed her, knowing he wasn't quite in his right mind but unable to stop himself. "The other you- the one from my universe- she likes me. We're friends."

Chapel looked suspicious, but amused. It was as if she expected him at any moment to become the Leonard McCoy she knew. He supposed he didn't blame her for it.

"Friends? Really?"

Bones nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but went silent when one of the guards who had escorted him to sickbay came around the curtain. He was tall and heavily muscled, and Bones wondered if he used steroids.

"You are not permitted to share anything that Doctor McCoy's imposter tells you. The captain wishes to keep this a private matter."

"Of course," Chapel said, drawing herself up so as to seem taller and just a little bit more formidable. Her tone was scathing when she asked, "Do you think I'm an idiot?"

"Just making sure."

The guard disappeared back behind the curtain, and Bones looked at Chapel. She allowed herself to relax some, but Bones knew what a relaxed Chapel looked like, and she was still very tense.

"Are they guarding me?" he asked her.

"The other you has a lot of enemies." She glanced at him. "Myself included."

"Why?" Bones asked. "Why you, I mean?"

"You have the job I want." Chapel didn't look at him, but Bones knew that she was lying anyways. They were far too close for her to be able to lie to him without him knowing.

Bones frowned. "You're not even a doctor."

"Okay, fine," Chapel snapped, finally looking at him. Her eyes were red-rimmed and shiny, malice making them glitter all the brighter. "You killed Geoff." She looked down and said softly, "I was in love with him."

"Kill Geoff?" Bones asked, aghast. "No way. We're all good friends, where I'm from."

"Not here." Chapel glared at him, but Bones caught a trembling of her lip and knew it was only to prevent tears. "Geoff was vying for your job. You killed him to keep it, as well as to deter anyone else who might be tempted to try and kill you and take your job."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Bones told her.

Chapel looked surprised at his response, but said nothing. Bones, exhaustion creeping over him once more like a heavy, warm blanket, let his eyes slide shut.

The curtain rustled again, and Bones heard Spock say, "Has he told you who he is?"

"Yes, sir."

"This information is to remain classified."

"I'm aware, sir."

"I must ask that you leave us. I have been ordered to check on the prisoner's mental state to ensure that another round of torture will not break his mind."

"Of course, sir.”

The curtains rustled gently, and then there were soft fingertips resting on Bones' arm. He forced his eyes open and gave Spock a small smile.

"I'm okay."

"I did not ask," Spock said, tone frigid. His eyes, however, were soft and concerned.

He raised his hands to Bones' face, and Bones put up no fight at all. It was easier this time, letting Spock into his mind. He could almost get used to it, the gentle slide into a bizarre, almost nebulous landscape and the soft press of thoughts against his own.

**_Nice excuse. What's so important for me to know that you had to meld with me, though?_ **

**I have genuinely been ordered to ensure that your mind is able to withstand more torture. This Captain Kirk has little faith in your durability- he believes that everyone from our universe is quite soft. He informed me that the entire time you have been here, he has been more gentle with you than he is with his own Leonard McCoy.**

**_Gentle? He calls that_ gentle? _Wow. He's in love with his Leonard McCoy, you know. That's why he's torturing me. He can't handle not being able to help the man he loves, and he's taking it out on me._**

**I did not know that. How did you discern this?**

**_I figured it out while I was strung up in that cell. When I suggested the idea, he got violent. I knew I'd hit the nail on the head._ **

**Fascinating.**

**_So how long do you have to hang around in my head before it's believable that my mind has been thoroughly inspected?_ **

**Not too much longer.**

**_Can we visit your head? We've spent too much time in mine, in my opinion._ **

**I suppose that we could. Turnabout is fair play, as I believe the saying goes.**

**_I'd... I'd like to see your mama, if that's acceptable. She sounded like an excellent lady._ **

**She was. I will show you.**

_It is 12:04 in the afternoon when someone requests entry to Spock's dorm room. Using the Terran calendar, it is late December, and the break between semesters began two days prior. With nothing to do, Spock has been reading scientific articles, but he sets his PADD aside now and stands._

_"Enter," he says, and tugs on the bottom of the sweater that his mother knit for him and sent in an old fashioned 'care package.'_

_The door slides open and reveals a Human woman, dressed not in Vulcan robes as she normally is, but in pants and a rather heavy looking jacket. Her dark brown hair spills over her shoulders, no scarf wrapped around her head but a hat atop it instead. On her arm is a purse, the body of it bulging with whatever is inside._

_"...Mother."_

_She is a most unexpected visitor. He has not seen her in person since he left home to attend the Academy over a year ago. He makes no move, shocked by her presence._

_"Hello, Spock." His mother smiles. "May I come in?"_

_"Yes, of course." Spock steps forward as she enters. "Let me take your coat and purse for you, mother."_

_His mother allows the courteous gesture, and when her jacket, purse, and hat have been stored away, she smiles at him. Spock is suddenly acutely aware of all of his imperfections, no matter how minor. His pants are ever so slightly rumpled, his pillow not smoothed out, his meditation mat not stored away but instead out in the open, rolled up by his desk._

_He quite firmly tells himself that it does not matter. His mother has never judged him for anything, very much unlike his father. Her smile is as radiant as ever when he looks at her, and he feels a sense of longing so intense that it aches. He has missed his mother immensely._

_"Why are you here?" he asks her. "I was not aware that you were on Earth."_

_"Your father has duties that have taken him to the Vulcan Embassy." His mother shrugs, smiling. "I joined him."_

_"He would not approve of you being here," Spock says. He knows it's the truth. His father has been disapproving even of his mother's calls to him._

_His mother scowls and says, "He doesn't control me, even if he does express his 'utmost disapproval.' If I want to see my son, then I'll see my son."_

_"Does he know?"_

_"No. I told him I was going sightseeing." Before he can give her a look of disapproval for lying, she continues with, "I did go sightseeing, I promise. I visited the Golden Gate Bridge, and then came here. I wasn't lying."_

_"Well," Spock says, struggling to find the proper words. "It is, in any case, very pleasing to see you again."_

_His mother looks at him with an expression that he cannot decipher, says, "I'm sorry, but I just missed you so much," and then wraps him in a hug._

_She is cool, as Humans are, and he welcomes the embrace. It's been so long since his mother held him, and despite his Vulcan blood, his Human blood rejoices in her touch. Her hair smells like the shampoo she likes to use, and if he recalls correctly the scent is papaya and vanilla milk._

_She's careful to ensure that their skin doesn't touch. Her constant consideration is amazing, the fact that she willingly severely limits the skin to skin contact that her species requires in deference to Vulcan custom._

_He pulls her slender frame closer and rests his cheek against the top of her head. They stand together like that for some time, and he doesn't mind at all. He just pulls his mother closer and basks in the comfort of her touch. The Human part of him flowers, warms delightfully._

_"Oh," she eventually says, separating herself from him gently. "I have a gift for you in my purse."_

_He watches as she approaches her purse and opens it, then pulls a knitted bundle from within. She hands it to him with a bright smile, and he takes it from her with a, "Thank you."_

_It's a sweater, very like the one he's wearing. The color is different, a reddish brown that reminds him of Vulcan sands. He strokes the soft fabric and looks up at his mother._

_"I figured you'd want another one," his mother says. She gives him a soft, knowing smile in the way that only a mother can. "It's much colder here than on Vulcan."_

_"Thank you," he repeats quietly._

_"Of course. What are mothers for?" She ushers him gently without actually touching him towards the small couch in his room. They sit down, his mother on her left, close together but not close enough. "So tell me, how has the Academy been treating you?"_

_"The Academy has treated me well."_

_"Just well?" His mother's eyes glimmer with joy and amusement. "Elaborate, please. I can't read minds."_

_And so he does._

**_She sure was something._ **

**I loved her dearly.**

**_I'm sure you did. I'm sure you still do._ **

**I believe that enough time has passed that we can break the meld.**

**_Alright, then. See you on the outside._ **

Spock separated himself gently from Bones' mind, and while it was disorienting, it wasn't painful. He blinked at Spock, the perfect picture of a solemn and stern Vulcan once more, and couldn't help but compare him to the young, lonely cadet that Bones almost felt that he knew. He failed miserably.

"You've grown a lot," Bones murmured.

"I assure you, doctor," Spock replied just as quietly, "I have not grown nearly as much as you think that I have."

"Maybe. Maybe not."

Spock turned and left without any goodbye, which Bones had fully expected. He was a prisoner, and Spock was not. Polite association would lead to Spock becoming suspect.

Bones let the odd exhaustion that still lingered tug at his eyelids. He drifted for a while, and eventually the heavy pull of sleep became irresistible. Bones slid into a dreamless sleep, and prayed that when he woke again that Spock would have figured out a way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! There's not a lot of angst in this chapter, so hopefully you guys enjoyed it! I do apologize for the slightly late update (thanks, precalc), but the next chapter will be up in four days.


	16. Chapter 16

McCoy opened his eyes in sickbay, of all places. Not in his quarters, or in his office, but in a biobed in his own goddamn sickbay. That was the first thing he noticed.

The second was that he _hurt_.

The pain was everywhere, and he could tell he'd had no morphine administered to him. There was a severe pain in his thigh, and despite his pain tolerance he did really wish he had medicine for it.

"What the fuck?" he asked no one in particular.

Chapel came around the curtain that blocked him from the rest of sickbay. "Doctor-"

"Nurse," McCoy barked, scowling. "What the _fuck_ is going on?"

She froze, and then looked up from her chart with a sour expression on her face. "Doctor McCoy. You're back."

"Yeah," McCoy raised an eyebrow at her. "Now why the hell am I in sickbay feeling like I've gone through a meat grinder?"

"The other you got caught." She shrugged. "The captain and Commander Spock tortured him."

"Spock?" McCoy frowned. "No, Spock was with me. That can't be right."

"Ask the captain yourself," Chapel sneered. "I'm alerting him that you're back."

She slipped through the curtains again into the main part of sickbay, leaving McCoy alone to stew in his own thoughts and pain. It was nice to be back, he supposed. He didn't have to act, pretend to be someone he wasn't. His conscience was still an issue, though. He'd have to kill it again, and quickly, lest it cause too many troubles.

"Captain," someone said in greeting beyond his curtain.

"Dismissed," McCoy heard Kirk say.

Kirk suddenly drew back the curtains and stepped towards McCoy's biobed, his face fixed in a fierce scowl. McCoy had never seen such anger directed at him, and he found he didn't like it at all.

"Doctor," Kirk snapped. "Are you who you say you are?"

"I am." McCoy scowled at him. "And I ain't a goddamn circus freak show, so shut the curtain behind you."

Something flickered in Kirk's eyes as he shut the curtain, and then he said, "So Spock has told me he was with you."

"He was," McCoy affirmed, answering the unvoiced question.

"Interesting. The other you said he was alone."

"Probably to keep at least one of them in the running. Smart of him."

"The thing is," Kirk began, leaning against the biobed with arms crossed, "I don't know if I can believe that you're really you. I might have to have Spock meld with you to make sure."

McCoy curled his lips in a snarl and spat, "Don't you dare."

"Oh don't be so reluctant." Kirk waved a hand dismissively. "He melded with the other you."

"Hurray for him," McCoy drawled sarcastically. "Maybe the other me is all buddy-buddy with his own Spock, but I'd rather spend an hour in the agony booth than let him anywhere near my mind."

Kirk smiled at him, and McCoy could see in him the barest echo of Jim. That thought caused a mellow ache in McCoy's chest. He wished that he somehow could've seen Jim wake, if only to apologize in person. He blinked at Kirk and then frowned.

"You know, the other you didn't have that fuck-ugly scar on his face," McCoy remarked.

"Oh, really?" Kirk's grin became something less amused. "And what else did he not have? Or what _did_ he have?"

"Well..." McCoy leered at him. "He had no problem letting me fuck him like a cheap whore. You've got a great ass. Also, the choking kink was unexpected. I knew you liked to choke _me_ , but I had no clue you were so desperate for someone to wrap their hand around _your_ neck.”

Kirk's eyes flashed angrily, and he took a step towards McCoy's bed. There was the temper that McCoy was used to, and he watched the threat dripping from Kirk in awe. He suddenly remembered part of why he'd decided to return to his universe in the first place. Here was the James Kirk that Jim was not, the volatile and temperamental one that McCoy knew so well.

"So it is you," Kirk eventually said, tone and posture softening some.

"What gave it away?" McCoy's tone was dry.

"Your attitude." Kirk eyed him like a predator might survey its prey. "The other you was so... meek. He never would've dared to talk back to me like that. Also, I never choked him." He gave McCoy a scrutinizing look. "He'd have absolutely no basis for that statement."

"Is that so?"

Kirk shrugged. "I didn't want to break him, and he seemed pretty fragile in the first place." His eyes gleamed when he held out a hand and said, "Welcome home, doctor."

"I'd say it's good to be back-" McCoy took Kirk's hand and shook it. "-but that would be a lie."

"Tell me about the other universe," Kirk demanded, taking a seat at the bottom of the biobed. "I want to know everything."

"What," McCoy said, grinning, "you don't want to hear about what it was like, fucking the other you?"

Kirk raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

"He was so tight," McCoy crooned. "So hot around me. You should've heard how he begged for me to fuck him." He watched as Kirk's pupils dilated, watched as his jaw clenched and unclenched. McCoy smothered a dark smile when Kirk shifted some. "It was fucking beautiful, getting my hand around his neck and squeezing, him letting me do it. He bared his neck for me, you know. He couldn't have been clearer if he'd begged like he did when I had him pinned to the wall with my hips."

"You need to get out of sickbay immediately," Kirk growled. "So I can fuck you through the mattress."

"Oh?"

McCoy found that he was actually kind of looking forward to that. It was amazing, really, what a journey to another universe could do. And perhaps one day, Kirk would relent enough to allow McCoy to fuck him. It would take a lot of gentle prodding, but McCoy was confident in his ability to convince Kirk.

"I'm serious."

"I don't doubt you are." McCoy tipped his head. "So get Chapel to fix me up, and then I'll be out in no time."

"Or maybe I'll just fuck you right here," Kirk suggested, voice low. "On your own turf, yeah? While you're helpless in a biobed, can't do more than just _take it."_

"I'll do a hell of a lot more than that if you try anything," McCoy snapped. "From what I hear, you're partially responsible for my condition, but my arms still work well enough to strangle you if you tried to fuck me here." McCoy smirked. "Though you'd probably enjoy that, huh?"

"Maybe I would," Kirk admitted, surprising McCoy. "Not that you'd survive long enough to find out, in any case."

"Aw, you'd never kill me. You know you love me too much for that."

Something darkened in Kirk's expression, and he stood from the bed. "Yeah, right. I'll get Chapel for you. You'll be back up and terrorizing patients and nurses alike in no time."

"I'd better be," McCoy grumbled. "I've spent far too much time being nice. Oh, and wait until I tell you about the other Chekov. How's ours, by the way?"

"Oh, he's dead. Killed him myself." Kirk laughed. "The other you tried to save him."

"Call him Bones," McCoy suggested. "'The other you' is such a tedious title. As for Chekov, I'm sure he did. The Chekov he knew was..."

"Was what?"

"He was like a kid. Skinny like a twig, bouncy, energetic. Nothing like ours."

"Bones described him in a similar way." Kirk grinned. "Before I stabbed him in the shoulder."

"You-?" McCoy paused, surveying his pains. "I don't feel like I've been stabbed in the shoulder."

"No, that was healed before your torture."

"I see." McCoy gave Kirk a look. "Well, my shoulder may not hurt, but the rest of me does. Go get me a nurse so I can be fixed up."

"Get me a nurse...?"

McCoy rolled his eyes. "Get me a nurse, _sir."_

Finally, Kirk left to hunt down a nurse and McCoy was left alone in his little bubble of pseudo-privacy. McCoy reflected on the days prior, on Jim specifically. They had been amazing days, an experience that McCoy would very, very likely never get again.

"The other you was a much nicer person," Chapel informed him as she entered. "I was tempted to heal him fully, instead of just a little."

"I'm aware," McCoy replied, his conscience nagging at him. For almost a minute, he let Chapel heal him in silence. "Nurse Chapel."

"Yes?"

"In the other universe, Doctor M'Benga is still alive."

Chapel froze, and after a few long seconds she asked, voice shaking just slightly, "Why do you assume I care? I'm sure there's a lot of people alive there that aren't here."

"I know you cared for him." McCoy sighed. "The other Kirk, he was..." He struggled to find the words. "He was an amazing person. Brought my conscience back to life, I suppose you could say." McCoy huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. "I almost wish he hadn't. But I just wanted to say that I'm sorry about killing M'Benga. I feel guilty about it."

Chapel made direct eye contact with him for the first time since she'd come to treat him, and McCoy was shocked by the grief in their depths. Guilt flared up in him again.

"I don't believe you," she said slowly, warily. "But your apology is appreciated."

"I didn't expect you to believe me. I just wanted to get that off of my chest."

Chapel removed the dermal regenerator that she had fixed over the painful wound on his thigh and pressed gently at the location. It was gone, though, and brought McCoy no pain. She moved the regenerator to a cut on his stomach.

"That place changed you," she stated.

"Yeah. It did. You actually like me there, you know."

Chapel looked up at him. "Do I? I liked the other you, too."

"It's funny." McCoy looked down at the cut, watching it vanish under her attention. "The difference there wasn't you, really. It was me."

Chapel moved the regenerator to a cut on his arm. "Well then, maybe if you take lessons from the other you, I'll start to like you, too."

"Maybe," he agreed, letting his head rest back against the pillow. "Maybe."

Nothing was different. Not really. His universe was the same as it had always been, his nurses and his captain unchanged. The only ones changed were him and Spock, and between the two of them McCoy knew he was truly changed.

Nothing was different, no, but nothing was the same, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This is almost it- one chapter left, and then I'll be updating the two short after stories as separate fics. The first one, focusing on McCoy, will come a week after the final chapter. The one focusing on Bones will come a week after that. Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed this!


	17. Chapter 17

He was back home, Bones noticed when he looked around after being jerked from his sleep by a transporter beam. There was no Imperial symbol on the wall, and the unconscious transporter technician was wearing a Starfleet uniform. Spock was standing next to Bones, looking shocked in his own Vulcan way.

"What the hell?" Bones asked.

"I believe that our counterparts discovered a way home before we did."

"Oh, thank god," Bones breathed, and sat down hard on the transporter pad.

"Doctor-" Spock knelt down in front of Bones. "-I must meld with you again and remove the block I have placed in your mind. It is impairing your mental state, even if only slightly."

"Go for it."

Spock raised his hand to Bones' face, and he found it was difficult to remember why he'd ever hated the idea of mind melds so much. They really weren't bad at all, and they had been incredibly helpful in the horror-filled universe that he and Spock had just come from.

**You must rest as soon as possible. You have been through quite a strenuous ordeal.**

**_So have you, you big hypocrite._ **

**I will also rest as soon as is convenient.**

**_Convenient and possible mean two different things, Spock. You can't stop me from making damn sure that Jim's okay._ **

**I would not dare to.**

Spock withdrew from Bones' mind gently, and Bones blinked as he looked around. Everything seemed a little brighter, a little more real. He looked back at Spock.

"Thank you."

"Of course." Spock glanced at he unconscious technician. "We should bring the technician to sickbay before we do anything else."

"Yeah, good plan."

The two of them stood, and Bones loitered by the door as Spock picked up the poor, unconscious technician. His limbs were long and gangly, nearly drowning Spock when he tried to pick the kid up.

No one looked at them with anything more than curiosity in the hallway. It seemed that their counterparts had been good at blending in, which was fortunate for the two of them. Bones didn't know if he'd be able to handle returning to his own universe only to be dragged to the brig by security.

When he entered sickbay, Spock trailing behind him, M'Benga greeted him with a, "Leonard, hey. I thought you'd gone to bed?"

"That wasn't me," Bones told him. "It's a really long story. Um, why was not-me here until over halfway through your shift?"

"Uh..." M'Benga blinked at him a few times, but eventually said, "Jim contracted an awful virus from the planet's surface. No one else had it, which should've been predictable given his propensity for stuff like that, and it reacted badly with headache medicine that the, uh, not-you gave him."

"I don't think it was a virus, Geoff," Bones said, a cold certainty settling over him. "Excuse me."

He rushed towards the biobed with a curtain drawn around it, knowing that Jim was behind it. His heart was pounding in his chest, his mouth dry like it had been stuffed with cotton. If Jim had been hurt by the monster who had switched places with him... He didn't know what he would do. Find a way to go back and murder him, probably, Hippocratic Oath be damned.

When he ripped back the curtain, he found a pale, trembling, sweating Jim who was hooked up to an old fashioned saline drip. He felt his knees go weak as he stumbled to Jim's bedside, listened as Jim whimpered and watched as a tear leaked from his eyes.

"Bones," Jim whispered hoarsely. He tossed his head to and fro, obviously suffering. "Bones, no..."

"Jim," Bones said, sinking into the plastic chair by Jim's bed. "Jim, I'm here, I'm right here."

Hot tears welled in his eyes as he looked at Jim, so obviously suffering. Here was the man he loved, unconscious and weeping on a biobed. Bones raised a trembling hand and stroked his hair, and when he retracted his hand it was slick with Jim's sweat.

"It's okay, darlin'," Bones whispered. "I'll make you all better, I promise."

He gripped Jim's hand, and then noticed something hard and flat beneath it. It was his PADD, he realized. His personal one. With a shaking hand, he slid the PADD from beneath Jim and opened it.

On the screen, there was a letter.

_By the time you're reading this, other me,_ the letter began, _I'll be gone. Spock will have found a way home, and you and your Spock will be back in this universe. Everyone will be where they should be._

_You're also probably extremely mad at me at this point. I could tell that you love Jim just by listening to your personal logs. I know I'd be furious if someone put someone I love in sickbay in this condition, and Jim sure is someone special, so I'm certain that you love him immensely. I thought my conscience was dead until he revived it, and it's only because of that that I'm leaving this letter and instructions at all._

_Spock and I thought it best to, in a sense, commit mutiny. At first, we had no way of knowing if we would be helped or tortured if we told Jim what had happened. Now I know we would've been helped, but it's too late. To do this to Jim, we collected specimens of one of the flowers down on the surface of the planet we're orbiting. It's a toxic one, and it causes a state of unconsciousness where one suffers from vivid nightmares of their worst fears._

_I'm feeling bad about what I've done, now. I can't just fix Jim without endangering our mission, because now he'll just throw us in the brig, but I can leave you instructions. As hypocritical as it sounds, I don't want him to suffer any more than is necessary. So here's what I did._

Below was a detailed account of how the poison had been made and what it's properties were. There was no work that Bones had to do now except create the counteracting agent using one of the flowers.

At the end, there was a:

_P.S. I know that Kirk can be brutal and possessive. I'm sorry. You probably had a hard time over there, and I know that's an understatement._

"Spock," Bones said. His hands still shook where they were clenched around the PADD.

"Yes, Leonard? How is Jim?"

"He's been poisoned. But... the other me left a letter telling me exactly how he did it and how to undo it." He laughed, heedless of how teary it sounded. "The damn kid won over that heartless monster."

"He has a tendency to reveal unexpected aspects of people," Spock agreed, coming to stand right behind Bones.

He could feel the heat coming off of Spock, and used it to help ground himself. He was okay. They were okay. The two of them were home, and that was the important thing.

"Here, can I see?" M'Benga asked, standing behind Bones on his other side. "You look exhausted, Leonard. I'll prepare the antidote for you."

"No." Bones shook his head. "I- I'm the one who did this. I need to fix it."

"Leonard," Spock said. "You are extremely fatigued, and have been through quite an ordeal. Only hours ago you were being tortured. You are in no condition to be practicing medicine at the moment."

"Says who?" Bones snapped, feeling his breath coming quick.

"Says the Acting Captain of this vessel," Spock replied.

"You're more than welcome to be the one who gives it to him, Leonard, but I really think I should be the one to prepare the captain's antidote."

"Fine," Bones spat. "Jesus fuck, _fine."_

"Leonard?" M'Benga sounded confused. Bones didn't blame him.

"His hostility, while unusual, is not unexpected," Spock told M'Benga, as if Bones wasn't even there. "Please go and prepare the antidote."

Bones listened to M'Benga's quiet footsteps disappear. Once they had, he stood from his chair and whirled on Spock, who looked far too impassive.

"Listen here," he began, voice shaking.

"Leonard," Spock interrupted him, "I am doing this for your own good. You are not mentally stable enough to carry out your normal duties. It is very common for Humans who have been removed from traumatic situations to only suffer from the true effects of their experiences after they are no longer in the traumatic environment."

Bones blinked and found that his vision was obscured by tears that stung and prickled, and when he tried to speak it was if he couldn't draw in enough air, like a vacuum had decided to live in his chest. He swallowed hard and tried to speak again, but nothing happened.

"Leonard," Spock said gently, "please rest. You may do so in your office, or in a cot by Jim, but I urge you to rest."

Bones nodded jerkily and moved towards his office. He had a couch in there that, while not particularly comfortable, would suit his needs. It was like he was falling apart, his legs shaking and his chest seizing and his head buzzing and spinning.

He collapsed onto his couch just as soon as he reached it, and lay there gasping for air through the tears that streamed down his face. It was like everything that had happened to him over the past days was catching up to him all at once. He felt like he might fall over despite being in a horizontal position, and with no one to see he put his hands over his face and sobbed until his fell into a restless, dreamless sleep.

It was Spock who woke him, and although his hand was gentle when he shook Bones awake, Bones' reemergence into consciousness was not pleasant. His first thought was that it was Kirk who was above him, and so without even looking he sobbed and lashed out. When his hand was caught, he panicked and tried to lash out with his legs. He landed that hit, and the next, and it was only after the third, "Doctor," that he realized that it was not Kirk, but Spock who had woken him.

"I'm sorry," Bones gasped, shaking and yanking his hand from Spock’s grip. He shrunk back into the couch, curling up as if he could retreat into himself and undo his violence towards Spock. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, oh shit, Spock, I'm so sorry."

"Doctor, I do not blame you," Spock tried to reassure Bones from his position on the floor. "I should have woken you in a different manner."

"No." Bones shook his head. "No, you didn't do anything, I'm sorry."

"You need not apologize." Spock got to his feet. "Doctor M'Benga has finished the antidote. If you would like to deliver it to Jim..."

"Yeah." Bones pushed himself onto shaky legs. "Yeah, okay."

Behind Jim's curtains, Spock and Bones found M'Benga holding a hypospray. He handed it to Bones with a concerned look, but Bones couldn't even summon any ire. He knew he looked like shit.

The hypospray hissed gently as it deposited the antidote into Jim's bloodstream. Bones sagged into the plastic chair and gave the hypo cartridge to M'Benga. His eyes remained fixed on Jim's face, and he was horrified to find that Kirk's face haunted Jim's.

"How long will this take to work?" Bones asked quietly. He didn't want to be by Jim's side when the antidote brought Jim from unconsciousness.

"I don't know," M'Benga said. "We'll just have to- Oh, he's waking up now."

And he was. Jim's face was smoothing out, his whole body shifting instead of twitching as he rose slowly to consciousness. Bones' entire body seized up. He wanted to move, to run, but he just... couldn't.

Jim's eyes cracked open and peered blearily at the ceiling before he looked around at his surroundings. When his gaze landed on Bones, he froze.

"Bo-" He stopped short, hesitation visible on his face. His eyes shone with confusion and hurt, and eventually he said tentatively, "Doctor McCoy."

_"Doctor McCoy," Kirk purrs, the head of his cock brushing over Bones' entrance. His hands are stretched over his head, locked in handcuffs, and he's on his knees. He has to fight to keep his legs from slipping on the silken sheets. "Look at you, so fucking desperate for my dick. Where's your professionalism, huh? Or are you just a whore with a badge?"_

Bones staggered to his feet, knocking the chair over. Jim blinked at him with owlish eyes, practically begging for answers, for context, but all Bones could see was triumphant sadism accentuated by a lip curled into a proud sneer. Filthy words echoed around his head, and invisible hands roamed his body. Bones thought he was going to puke.

"I have to leave," he gasped.

He was only able to make it to his office before he collapsed to his knees, vomiting into a small trash can he kept by his desk. As he heaved, he began to cry again, gasping for breath when he wasn't violently expelling bile. He hated his traitorous body and mind, hated how they'd made him unable to be in the presence of the man he loved.

"Leonard," Bones eventually heard someone say. Spock. "Leonard, are you okay?"

“No," Bones rasped. He had stopped vomiting, and how was just slumped over the foul-smelling garbage can, too tired to move. Aftershocks left him trembling against his desk, teeth chattering like it was below freezing. "I... I don't know. How am I supposed to do this? I can't even look at him without…” He shook his head, eyes tearing up again, and then spat sour remnants of bile into the garbage can.

“I do not know how you will manage your PTSD,” Spock said, sitting down by his side. “However, I will be here to aid you in any way that I can. Doctor M'Benga is tending to the captain, and is informing him of what happened to us. Is there anything that I can do to help you at the moment?”

Bones squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his forehead against the rim of the garbage can. A tear leaked out from between his eyelids and dropped into the garbage. Despite all his inner turmoil, Spock was a calming force, a grounding presence.

"Just stay here," Bones whispered, his voice so quiet he didn't even know if Spock heard him.

"I can do that," Spock replied.

And he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's (almost) all, folks! Man, I've had such a blast writing this, and I hope that you all have enjoyed it, too! This will be declared complete, now, but I'm making it part of a series, so a week from now you guys can check this series and one of the two additional oneshots will be posted.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I don't know where this idea came from, but I've been on a bit of a Mirrorverse kick recently, and thus this project was born. Updates should be every 1-2 weeks. I hope you all enjoy it!


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